Fiona doesn't really understand what it is she's seeing when she
looks at Strauss. Of course she can see the tall thin creature
adorned with a cowl and full length cape. Beyond that she sees the
three midgets: Larry, Curly and Mo, the self-styled comedy trio,
balancing precariously atop each others' shoulders. But beyond that,
there's something else, something she hasn't seen before, that her
mind doesn't quite know how to interpret. There's a hint of tension
in the figure before her, as if all three of them are part of a
tightly wound mechanism. And then there's the colour,s as if a cloud
of red mist is hanging around them, what a new-age type might call an
aura, deep and vibrant and to her, very very alarming.
“What are you?” she asks them, while her hands busy themselves
with affectionate cats. To her senses, the cats are just that: two
female felines. Fiona knows how they see themselves: tall, thin,
regal, beautiful, human. But to her they're just cats: cute, fluffy
and totally self absorbed.
“M'lady,” Strauss replies, “We are what we've always been, and
all that we've ever claimed to be.”
“No,” she says, “There's something about you, something
different.” Suspicion tugs at her mind as she speaks. “There's
something you're not telling me,” she says, “What are you
up to?”
