"You're going to -what?!-" Christian was staring at Bain as if Bain had a rubber ducky stuck to the middle of his forehead. Which, in fact, he did.
"Don't look at me like that. I told you once. Actually, I told you twice. Because when I first came to talk to you, I said--"
"I get your point." He was still staring at Bain's forehead. "Do you have any more of those duckies?"
"Yes. Here." Bain smashed a ducky onto Christian's head.
"Much better. Go on."
"I'm going to sing under her window - you're doing it again, stop that."
"Stop what?"
"That annoyingly incredulous look. It's freaking me out." Bain began pacing, as he tended to do at least once in every book. "I need a song. You need to help me think of a song. You have experience with this sort of thing."
Christian shook his head. "No, actually, I don't. I know nothing about singing under windows. I've never done it, in fact. In front of windows, yes. On top of elephants? Sure. But you should really talk to Leah, I hear she does this sort of thing quite often."
"No, no, it's no good. I can't talk to Leah. If I talk to Leah, she'll say I need to stop wasting my time in stories such as this and help her with the website."
"Websites haven't been invented yet," Christian pointed out. "Besides, she probably would be glad you're wasting your time in some sort of story. A random story is better than no story at all. She could put this on the site. Actually," he added, "that would be hysterical."
"I need help," Bain pleaded. "Please just help me with a song. Don't make me beg."
Christian's eyes lit up. "You'll beg? Ooh! I want to see you beg!"
It was Bain's turn to stare at Christian as if Christian had a rubber ducky suctioned to his forehead. Which, in fact, he did.
"You've got a rubber ducky in the middle of your forehead," he evaded.
"So do you."
There was an awkward silence.
"You have to help me!" Bain suddenly exclaimed, falling on the floor to beg at Christian's feet. "Please, please, help me! I'll pay you! You can have my clipper! Just please help me with a song! I have to go sing under Cheney's window --"
"Cheney?!" Christian said, interrupting Bain's hysterics. "You're going to sing to Cheney?"
"Yes," Bain said, composing himself somewhat. "I thought I told you that."
"Actually, you kept referring to her as...'her.'"
"Oh, well, yes. It's Cheney." Bain got to his feet and checked to make sure the ducky was still plastered to his forehead.
"Bain, my friend, I may be able to help you..."