"Hey kid, nice haircut."
Boo grinned. She never grinned on the other side of the door. "I haven't had a haircut, Mike."
"Yeah, that's what I mean." Mike pulled her fringe affectionately. "Sort it out! If I had a pair of eyes like yours, I wouldn't be hiding them. Come to that, if I had a pair of eyes..."
"You look fine," Sully said, and gave her a quiet smile. "How've you been?"
"Same old," Boo said falling into step with them. They were walking down the high street to where Mike had (illegally) parked his newest car. He had promised her a ride some fortnight ago and she hadn't seen her friends since. "Same old," she repeated, but looked a little sad.
Sully saw it too. He'd been seeing it since Boo had reached the age of thirteen. But what can you expect? That is what puberty is for, if you ignore the purely biological happenstances- you scrape away your innocence, you dig a hole inside of yourself, you create a secret world in your soul, a private life of fantasies, avarice and the famous Freudian slip, and you have a place where you can be as much pig or saint as you like, accountable to nobody.
Sully, of course, thought, 'She's growing up.' But if he had been as overly verbose as all that, and of course a human, so that he knew who Freud was, he undoubtedly would have thought this.
"How's Celia?" Boo was asking Mike in the meanwhile.
"Moving in with her was the best thing I ever did, except maybe get born," Mike said, happily. "Cooked dinners! Proper ones! Every night! And of course-"
"Mike..." muttered Sully uncomfortably.
"-she's great... conversation...?" Mike finished, then smirked and nudged Boo, who giggled and went a funny shade of pink. Definitely, definitely growing up.
Sully sighed. "Sure, if you're of great conversation is simpering baby noises. I guess you haven't yet progressed to the art of sentence-forming..."
"Good evening, Mr Director General!" some miscellaneous monster called to Sully. He gave them a pleasant smile and a nonchalant wave- at least, with the hand that wasn't holding Boo's.
"That's Mr Director General Sir!" roared Mike, insofar as a small green lump of indignation can roar. "And his stately and majestic entourage!"
And how long will I be allowed to hold her hand before she realises she's not a little girl? Or worse, that I'm not just a human in a fuzzy monster suit? Or at least he would have thought that, if he wasn't thinking, 'Funny little paw. Where shall I take her and her funny little paw to dinner? Maybe sushi. She never gets tired of the sushi story. Or how about Kzntvcki Fried Membrane and a late night double-feature picture show?'
Don't make the mistake of thinking of Sully as stupid. It takes a creature cleverer than most to block out subconscious mental snide remarks because they care enough about someone else. Not even Romeo and Juliet managed that. Mothers struggle once their offspring start answering back. Sully was very, very clever indeed.