Sorry for the wait folks. I hope you all find it worth it. ^_^ (And a note to all who don't believe in the power of reviewing: I got a review on one of my other fanfics yesterday encouraging me to work on this fic and it inspired me to go back, finish the last page and load it up! Ta da!)
Cannoe: Thanks for the kick in the butt. ^_^
Mugendai: Don't worry, I haven't forgotten the dragons!
Lavondyss: I'm not too fond of romances myself, but I have to follow where my muses direct me. *helpless grin* I don't know exactly where this is going myself, honestly. I write as things come to me.
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Sarah Stevenson hadn't even noticed the person at the bar until he called her name. Surprise and excitement overtook her as she recognized him as human. She'd only seen one other before her entire life. However, her initial reaction was quickly dampened by mistrust.
It was a sane response for a sixteen-year-old female meeting a strange male in a bar. Though she could practically feel her stomach curling against her spine, she waved away his offer. Her money couldn't go towards food at the moment anyway. "Thanks, but I'm not eating."
On the other hand, never let it be said that she didn't take advantage of an opportunity. "But if you'd like to contribute. . . ." She held out her cup with a small grin.
The human's eyebrow rose in a calculating expression. He wasn't stupid, for all his clothes said he was your average port flotsam. He jerked a thumb at the stool beside him. "I'll pay."
Sarah debated mentally. Mac didn't like it when people caused trouble in his inn, and she knew he had a soft spot for her. It would be safe as long as she stayed by the bar. And a free meal was awfully tempting. . . . But before she took a seat she wanted one thing clear. "Look, guy, if you want a bed partner for the night I'm not—"
"Just. Dinner." She could see his frustration at her stubbornness, and it made her want to laugh. He thought she'd just plop herself down and do whatever he said, did he? Oh, what the hell. Who was she to argue with free food?
She waved Mac over as she seated herself on the stool next to the human. "I guess I am having dinner after all," she told the Ellenvood barkeep, who was especially tall for his race and made great cocktails.
"Usual?"
"Nah, I'll go all out this time, thanks." Mac winked at her, guessing her scheme no doubt. She turned back to the human, and from his half-amused, half-exasperated expression he figured it out as well. "Well? What's this all about?" she demanded to know.
He blinked. "Uh. . . ." Oh, great. He didn't know either. Stupid boys and their stupid hormones. While he searched for something to say, she looked at him more carefully. He was older than she was, probably around eighteen or nineteen. Taller too, though it was hard to tell sitting down. The thing that caught her attention the most was his eyes. He had this way of looking, with his chin tucked down so he had to stare up at her through his eyebrows. It didn't make him look sneaky, it made him look . . . like he was protecting himself from something. Or somebody. No one had ever looked at Sarah that way before. She couldn't help but wonder what this guy was about.
"I'm new around here," the young man finally settled on, and she blinked back to the present. "I don't know my way around real well. But . . . uh, I haven't seen many Gossamarians about."
Small talk. Fine, she could do that. " 'Only foolish Gossamarians hang around Port City,'" she quipped, quoting an old expression.
"And that would make you?"
Oh, he actually had a sense of humor! "That would make me only half-Gossamarian," the girl smirked. "My da's human, like you. Funny, because he's the only human I've ever seen on Gossamar before now. But he tells me there were some other families, quite a while ago. He even named me after an old friend of his. She left—uh, are you okay?"
The youth straightened up so fast his hair bounced into his eyes. Yeah, he was a good half head taller than she was, Sarah noted. "W-who is he?" he stuttered. There was a frantic look in his blue eyes that concerned her.
"My da? His name's Harley Stevenson. You wouldn't know him, I don't think. That'd be some coincidence."
Whatever recognition the guy was looking for, he didn't find it. The tension ran out of him like rainwater and he slumped against the bar. "Yeah, I guess not," he agreed halfheartedly, mind clearly somewhere else. This was doing nothing to clear up Sarah's confusion. She searched for a question to ask, but then Mac arrived and her stomach informed her that a meal was more important.
The bartender had outdone himself. There was a heaping bowl of thick stew, a plate of warm dinner rolls and sliced fruits, bread pockets stuffed with cold meat, a rind of cheese the size of her hand, a salad, and a tall glass of water (which was the only thing Sarah drank). Mac balanced it all expertly on his suction-cup hands and spread them onto the bar in front of her.
Sarah popped a round blue fruit into her mouth and offered her benefactor a roll with her other hand. "You should help me with this, or we'll be here all night," she grinned.
A high squeak took the Gossamarian by surprise, as did the little pink . . . thing . . . that popped out of the guy's pocket and snatched the bread from her hand. She squeaked herself, yanking her hand back.
"Morph!" chided the young man. "We just ate!"
Sarah hid a laugh behind her hand as he tried to catch the thing, but it scooted just out of reach. Watching it move was interesting. Little bits would break off as it bobbed and flowed in motion, then reattach to the main body as it slowed. She could actually see the tabletop through it a bit, though it was mostly a pinkish tint.
"What is it?"
"He's—Morph—a morph—I mean." The guy's sentence was chopped as he lunged after the blob repeatedly. It finally took refuge behind her wing, chomping the roll in peace. It was a good hiding place since the human wouldn't come that close to Sarah to reclaim the morph. "He's harmless," he finally added with a shrug of apology.
She didn't mind the little creature in the least. "And cute too. Oh!" Sarah had turned her head to watch and suddenly she wasn't looking at an amorphous blob, but a tiny Gossamarian. It was herself!
"Yeah. I think it's an evolutionary trait. Too cute to eat. He likes you."
There was that sense of humor again. The guy didn't smile, but she could see the mirth in his eyes. "Oh, I know his type. He likes me because I have all the food." In case he was the kind who could make a joke but not recognize one, she grinned at him to show she was kidding. No sense offending the one paying for it all.
Speaking of which, she realized she hadn't even thanked him for the food. "By the way, thanks Mr. . . . uh, who are you anyway?" He hesitated again, all traces of humor gone. Geesh, was there anything this guy wasn't trying to hide? An instant later she found out exactly what the hesitation was for.
"Jim Hawkins."
Phhhhht! Sarah spit out the gulp of water she had just taken and whipped her head around to stare, wide eyed. "Jim Haw . . . the Jim Haw—" Her voice rose an octave in shock.
"Shhh! I shoulda just made something up," he groaned.
"The Jim—"
"Yes! Okay? And as wonderful as it would be for the whole room to know, could you please—OW!"
Sarah jumped, but not as high as Jim. He sprang from his stool, arms out for balance as he wobbled on one foot. When she saw why she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. "Little Brother!" she gasped. Morph, perched on her wing now, made concerned noises in her ear.
Jim glared at the green creature clamped onto his ankle, who only came up to his knee (not including the row of spikes down the back). Though the legs and paws were more mammalian in shape, the rest of the body was definitely reptilian. And so was the long snout filled with teeth that were currently sunk into his flesh.
The lizard released him to glare up at Jim's face. "Leave Sarah alone!" he squawked in outrage. "I won't let you hurt her!"
"Little Brother," repeated Sarah, unable to keep the amusement out of her voice. It was impossible to be serious when a knee-high reptile was growling and standing between you and the guy paying for your dinner. She felt like a damsel being rescued by a spacer in shining battle armor, right out of a tale.
"This thing is a relation of yours?" Jim grumbled, keeping a wary eye on the diminutive being as he rubbed his abused ankle.
"No, that's his name. He's a Salcunomadro. They're native to Gossamar too. He wasn't hurting me, you know," she added, addressing the lizard for the last bit.
"You looked upset, so I came to save you! I'm brave!"
"Yes. Yes you are." Sarah couldn't keep a smile off her face. Little Brother was a true friend. Other than her father, the little Salcunomadro was all she had. "We've known each other since we were little," she explained to Jim, who still looked peeved. "The Salcunomadro don't choose their names until they're adults. That's why he's just Little Brother." She turned to her old friend, beginning to feel dizzy holding two conversations at once. "I wasn't upset, I was just surprised. Little Bro, this is—"
"Waaaaiiitt. . . ."
"—the Jim Hawkins!" She tried to keep her voice down, but she couldn't help her excitement. She was sitting next to a living legend! All at once it occurred to the girl exactly what she had been doing before her new acquaintance had called her name. She could feel her cheeks burn as she whipped her head around to stare at the human, completely ignoring Little Brother's exclamation of surprise.
"Oh no," she gasped. They both turned to her. "You heard—I was—Oh, I can't believe—I—" she stuttered.
The fumbling words halted as a wide grin transformed his face. Wow, he looked . . . nice, that way. Wow. He should definitely do that more often. Wait, he was saying something.
". . . .was interesting. Not, uh, true. But interesting."
She gulped water to cool her flaming cheeks. "I'm so sorry. Yeah, I made it up. I mean, I know the stuff everyone's heard. There was a map and pirates and the whole planet blew up. I just filled in the rest. I never would have told it if I knew you were sitting right here. Seriously." She was babbling. From his expression, it was amusing him.
There was only so much embarrassment Sarah could take. Unable to think of anything else, she dug into the satchel at her side and pulled out her telenstrument to be a distraction. From habit she drew the instrument's neck strap over her head.
"What's that?" He was polite enough to allow the change of subject. Not many men in Port City were that polite. Or polite at all. It was a nice change.
"Was my ma's, once. It's a telenstrument. Ever heard of one?" She glanced up from her instrument in time to catch some fleeting expression leave his face. Only blank curiosity remained as he shook his head negatively. "Music from pure thought. It produces different notes based on mental waves." She held up the cord coming from one side and pressed the end, tipped with a suction cup, to her temple. "See, this end is the mind scanner. And these are the different instrument sounds I can recreate." She ran her fingers over the instrument's row of buttons, pressing the ones for percussion and string sounds. She played a quick rift from Etherium Melody, the song she had been playing earlier that night. It was one of her favorites.
"Nice. You're good."
"Sarah is the best, Mr. Hawkins, sir!" enthused Little Brother. "And nobody taught her or nothing! She's a genius!" The little creature's big yellow eyes gleamed with something akin to hero-worship. What Jim didn't realize yet was that Little Brother's intense admiration was directed at him, not at Sarah. But she kept that thought to herself.
"Yeah, I'm so smart I'm stuck here scrabbling for every coin that falls in the gutter on the street." The telenstrument picked up on her abrupt mood swing and blurted out a flat note before she yanked the scanner from her head. What she had meant to sound flippant had come out bitter instead. Little Brother thumped his tail anxiously on the ground. Jim was staring at her, not with pity like she feared, but with understanding. "Uh," she coughed, "money. Heh. They say it doesn't truly make you happy anyway."
Uncomfortable silence fell. Sarah couldn't think of anything to say. Who was she to complain about life to Jim Hawkins, the one who battled pirates and faced down the wonder of Treasure Planet? How could he even show such interest in a girl like her after doing all that?
Oh, wonderful. Now she was feeling sorry for herself. Time to get out of this situation.
Sarah put away her telenstrument and stood. She signaled Mac, who came to wrap up the food they hadn't finished. Not that there wasn't a thousand questions she'd like to ask Jim Hawkins, but being poor didn't mean she had no dignity. "It's late," she said with some regret. "My da'll be worried. Thank you again for dinner, Mr. Hawkins."
"Jim," corrected the male youth automatically. He stood as well. What, was he going to follow her home? "I'm sorry if—"
She shook her head. "No, it's fine. Better than fine. It was great meeting you. I just have to go."
"Sarah?" Little Brother sounded confused. He didn't understand, she knew.
"Never mind, Little Bro," she smiled at her friend. "You should be getting home too." The bartender returned with the doggie bag. She checked to make sure her earnings were safely in her satchel, nodded a last acknowledgement to Jim, and made for the door.
"Sarah, wait!" called Jim. He sounded frustrated once again. She turned back with a smile. "I, ah, still don't know my way around Gossamar. Could I hire you to show me around?"
Part of her wanted to leap at the chance. She would get to hang around with Jim Hawkins! His stories of adventures alone would be worth it. And it wasn't like she had anything else to do, after all. But her pride made her hang back. She had embarrassed herself tonight, something she didn't like one bit, and if she left now she wouldn't have to deal with the situation again. Also, a niggling question added to her unease. Why was he showing such an interest in her? If she could figure out the answer to that she'd feel much better.
Perhaps that was what made her nod in answer to his question. "Tomorrow," she insisted.
"Tomorrow," he agreed, his face showing relief. The human slumped back into his stool and seemed about to say something else. The Gossamarian couldn't handle any more awkward conversations. She turned back to the door and left the Gentle Inn, a grinning Little Brother at her heels.
"Well good night," Jim said wryly to the closed door Sarah had just exited through. He was one confused young man. There was something about this girl, and he had to find out what. It couldn't be coincidence that she and his mother shared the same name and he had just happened to meet her here, where his mother had once lived. But what the connection was, he couldn't guess. Her father's name, Harley Stevenson, didn't sound like anyone his mother had ever mentioned.
Besides, she seemed like a nice girl. He wanted to help her, if he could. Despite not knowing what to say to her half the time. Tomorrow he'd—
"Aw, man," he groaned. It just occurred to him he had no idea where she lived, or where and when she wanted to meet. Jim leaped up from the stool for the third time that night. He dug into his pocket and spilled a handful of coins onto the tabletop. "I'll be back," he told the Ellenvood barkeep, who was wearing a particularly knowing expression that annoyed the youth. He checked to make sure Morph was still sleeping in his pocket, grabbed up his duffel bag from the floor, and zipped out the door.
The Gossamarian night was dark with only a single, small, yellow moon to light it. Glass lanterns were set up on poles along the cobblestone streets to provide more illumination for travelers. Jim held his breath and listened. It hadn't been more than a minute since Sarah and her little friend had left, but he didn't hear anything now. As far as he could see, there wasn't anyone else out in the streets at the moment.
Well, it had looked like Sarah was heading left with the closing of the door. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his jacket and trotted down the sidewalk, still listening. Some insects or other small animals were making soft whining noises in the distance. A loud voice came suddenly from the dwelling he was passing. The next noise he identified was loud enough to come from the street. He slowed as he approached a corner turning left. Another crash like the first, close by, made him stop altogether.
"Ya can't dance on crates forever," came the familiar voice of the Cerulean from the inn, Shingsti. "Come down and pay and I'll let ya run along home intact." Laughter like rocks crashing together followed.
Jim was rounding the corner even before the voice of Sarah rang out in angry retort. "Leave me alone, Shingsti! You caught me off guard yesterday, but I'm not giving in to you again!"
The sight was an ugly one. The Cerulean was almost seven feet tall, with four muscular arms on his torso and heavily clawed feet. An aquatic spine ran from his stumpy head to his short tail. Long, jagged fangs sprouted from under tiny eyes burrowed beneath heavy brows. His blue hide was thick enough that the flimsy vest and shorts he wore seemed comical. What wasn't funny was the fact that this brute's opponent was a scrawny girl wearing sandals, patched pants and a shirt so big the sleeves went past her wrists. The thin line of blood trailing down her left cheek kindled enough anger in Jim to chase out any thought of alerting the authorities that had been drilled into him by the Academy.
"I think you should reconsider this choice of action, sir," he called out strongly. His training was coming to him unconsciously, just as his instructors said it would. He kept his eyes on Shingsti but searched his peripheral vision for possible weapons, routes of escape, or any other people in the vicinity. He judged the distance between himself and the Cerulean, estimating the time it would take for him to approach if he attacked. He did the same for the civilian, debating how he could reach her in time if Shingsti made a move.
At his words the bulky alien had turned from his quarry. If being outnumbered alarmed Shingsti at all, he didn't show it. As a matter of fact, he pulled his jaw into a grin that said he wasn't displeased with the situation at all.
Sarah gave an exclamation of shock at seeing Jim, and Shingsti glanced back her way. Jim immediately latched onto the tactical advantage. In their current positions, the Cerulean could only keep one of them in his sights at a time. The human took a few steps sideways, putting himself directly across from Sarah, with Shingsti between them. The alien's back was to him at the moment as he barked threats at the girl, so Jim motioned with his hand for Sarah to run. She scowled and shook her head.
"Oh no?" growled Shingsti, who thought she was answering his demand to climb down from the row of tall crates she was perched on top of. She had obviously been using them to keep her distance, as two further down the line were smashed to pieces with goods spilling in the street. Apparently Shingsti was too cumbersome to climb up and get her. "Then perhaps I'll just break ya friend as incentive," the alien snarled. Without warning he whirled and sprang at Jim.
Jim was expecting something along these lines, so he wasn't caught completely off guard. He wanted to dodge right, which would move him toward the open street and give him more room to maneuver. Unfortunately Shingsti was well aware of this. He lunged at Jim at an angle, forcing the youth to retreat to his left. Within four steps his shoulder struck the wall of the building that the crates were stacked in front of.
Shingsti followed him relentlessly. Jim needed a weapon, or a diversion that would give him time to move. He shifted his duffel bag in preparation to throw it at the hulking brute.
Before he could finish the movement, a furious screech ripped the air. Jim recognized it, but it took him completely by surprise. He'd never heard Morph sound so angry before! He didn't have time to stop the little blob as Morph popped out of his pocket and flew straight at Shingsti.
In the three years Jim had toted the shapeshifter around he had yet to find anything that could seriously hurt the little guy. There wasn't much that one could do to something with such a loose configuration of molecules. Because of this, he wasn't overly concerned for Morph's welfare. But he did keep his eyes on them as he edged around the Cerulean, who no longer had an interest in him.
Shingsti took a swing at the morph hovering in front of him, but Morph ducked past the two fists. Stretching out into a long thin robe, Morph encircled the thug's thick ankles and tied himself into a tight knot. Jim bolted as all four of Shingsti's arms pinwheeled the air, trying to stay upright.
He halted in front of the crate Sarah clung to; she stared down at him with wide and frightened eyes. No time to console her now. A plan was forming in his head almost too fast for him to straighten it out. "Tip it this way!" he insisted urgently, glancing behind him just in time to see Shingsti lose the battle and tumble to the ground. Perfect. But the Gossamarian hadn't moved, confusion written across her face. "The crate," he clarified. "Quick!" Finally her eyes lit up, and he knew she guessed his plan. He took off to round the crates at a run.
Things were happening so fast that Sarah could hardly keep her head from spinning. It took her agonizingly long moments to realize Jim wanted her to tip over her perch to fall on Shingsti, and when she did she couldn't believe she hadn't thought of it herself. The things were huge and heavy, and at the very least it would slow her attacker down considerably. She scrambled onto the crate beside her own and grabbed the edge of the one she just vacated, yanking with all her strength. When it wouldn't budge she fought rising panic and shifted her stance, hooking one leg around the edge of the crate she sat on now. With this added leverage she could feel the crate shift just a fraction.
On the ground below Shingsti managed to roll onto his back, still fighting to reach his fettered ankles. He cast a gaze up at her and snarled his rage, narrowed eyes almost disappearing under his heavy brows. The frightening sight gave Sarah a burst of strength. The crate tipped a fraction more.
Suddenly it was much lighter, taking her by surprise. She turned her head away from her attacker, found Jim had worked his fingers under the bottom edge and was pulling upward. Together it only took them a moment more before the tall wooden box tipped away from Jim and fell over with a crash. He had judged perfectly. The crate fell directly onto Shingsti, and his roar of anger was abruptly silenced. Dust billowed and obscured Sarah's sight of everything.
"You okay?" Jim called to her, waiting for a somewhat shaky confirmation before making his way back around the row of crates. "Stay up there until I check things out," he told her.
The dust had settled enough for him to easily make out her expression. She hovered between remaining unease and offense. "I'm not helpless," she finally insisted, but made no move as he asked.
Jim didn't answer, as he couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't sound patronizing. Instead he focused on the potential danger. Metal bolts for galley engines littered the ground. Well, that would explain the crate's heft. Broken planks and bolts shifted. Jim tensed. With an anxious squeak Morph slithered out. He looked around, spotted Jim, then shot over to cling to his cheek and quiver.
He gave the little guy a comforting pat, murmuring thanks. Most of his attention was focused on the fallen figure. Training insisted on checking the alien's injuries.
"What are you doing?!" Sarah hissed, watching him climb through the wreckage and grab one of the Cerulean's thick wrists. He ignored her until he was satisfied with the steady thump under his fingers. Just knocked out then.
Only then did he look up at the girl over his shoulder. "You can come down. He's not getting up anytime soon." He heard her leap to the ground as he checked for broken bones or life-threatening injuries. Lucky for the port flotsam, his thick skin protected him. "We have to find a constable, or some kind of authority," he growled to himself. Jim wanted this guy behind bars.
Sarah's green eyes widened in alarm and disbelief. She couldn't believe this was Jim Hawkins, who fought pirates and sailed solar galleons. How could he do all that and not know how things were in a place like this? She grabbed his arm. "Jim, no."
"Hmm? Sarah, there's not going to be any trouble convincing the authorities that you were attacked. You won't get in trouble."
Sarah snorted, unimpressed by this new side of his character. The fabled Jim Hawkins sailed with pirates and stood before her dressed to fit in with a bar crowd. And yet he didn't understand the first thing about port life? "Don't you know how things like this work?" she demanded. Her hero-worship was lost. The Jim Hawkins she knew from stories was the best spacer, the best fighter, fearless and a champion. He wasn't a young man who fumbled for words, embarrassed her, and tried to play by the rules when anyone could see that just wouldn't work. "If we do anything, his buddies will be after us before the ink is dry on the list of charges."
There was no reply. Jim only stared at her, taken aback, and she sighed. "Look, it's not like I'm not grateful. Thank you, for your help. But dragging the authorities into this is only going to make it worse. Maybe now at least Shingsti will think twice before jumping me. That's enough for me."
Suddenly the take charge, by-the-book person before her returned to the young man she met at the inn, with a sarcastic teenage expression of his own. "If you think this is going to do anything but make a guy like that more angry, then I'm not the only naive one here," Jim retorted. Sarah didn't give an inch, staring him in the eye, shoulders back, wings up. After a moment of this face off Jim threw up his hands. "Fine, whatever. But let's get out of here. I don't want to be around when he wakes up."
She nodded, satisfied, and turned on her heel. Jim followed her without much thought as she walked along, himself unsatisfied with the incident. He hadn't come across the etherium to pick fights with bar scum. It didn't sit well with him, after all the rules and regulations drilled into his head from the Academy. Then again, hadn't he been thinking earlier that he was fed up with playing by the rules?
Morph, riding on his shoulder, interrupted his thoughts by dipping into his pocket and withdrawing with Jim's handkerchief. The tiny shapeshifter floated before Sarah's face and trilled.
She turned to Jim questionably; he pointed to the left side of his own face in explanation. "You're bleeding," he said, not without concern.
The sixteen-year-old touched her face, felt her small wound, and accepted the handkerchief with a "thank you" to Morph. She dabbed at the drying blood with a wry grimace. "His fists are quick," she remarked as indifferently as she could.
"What's he got against you?" demanded Jim.
"Who needs a reason?" She shrugged. "I'm an easy hit. Can't put up a fight, alone on the streets most of the time. He got me yesterday when I wasn't paying attention. Took my mother's ring along with my earnings, the bastard. . . ." She trailed off uncomfortably, obviously saying more than she meant to.
Concern overrode Jim's own embarrassment. "Why aren't you in school?" he asked with surprised.
"What is this, an interrogation?!" snapped the female, whirling at him in frustration. "If you must know, Mr. infamous Jim Hawkins, my da is sick. Real sick. And we weren't exactly rich to begin with, and now he can't work so it's up to me to bring in enough to put bread on the table and pay for doctors and medicine. There. Are you satisfied now?"
He had the decency to wince and apologize. "I-I'm sorry, Sarah. I didn't mean to—"
"Of course you didn't," she snorted. "And stop following me. I can't show up with a boy at my house. My da'll—I don't want to upset him. I'll come back to the Gentle Inn tomorrow morning. You're staying there, right?"
"Uh, yeah." Jim blinked, further surprised that she still wanted to associate with him at all. "Um, until tomorrow then." The young male searched for something more upbeat to say. He didn't want the night to end on such an uncomfortable note. "Hey," he finally spoke up, as she was turning away. He mustered a grin. "Don't bring that green guy with you, 'kay? I don't really think much of people whose first impression is to chew my ankles off."
He was glad when she chuckled appreciatively, accepting his attempt at humor. "You leave my best friend out of this," she volleyed back, grinning.
Remembering all of a sudden, he added, "Hey, he was with you when you left. He's okay?"
"Sure," she nodded, much more at ease now. "He lives on the other side of town. We split up at the door. And no, I won't bring him tomorrow. I'll see you, Jim." She waved briefly before taking off at a jog.
Probably thinks I am desperate enough to follow her home, Jim reflected. He'd certainly made it seem like it with the number of times that he'd hounded her in the course of one night alone. I'm such a moron sometimes. Still, he was pretty happy. He wasn't stewing over past memories anymore; he wasn't sitting around accomplishing nothing. And tomorrow he'd spend more time with Sarah Stevenson.
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"I've got two friends I'd like ya to meet. Say hello to Mr. Mop and Mrs. Bucket!" Okay, now everyone do this: picture the shape of a mop and a bucket. Now think again about MR. Mop and MRS. Bucket. Right, now tell me Silver doesn't have a dirty mind. :D
Preview for next chapter: A reunion! And that's all I'm going to say. Bwa ha ha. Told you I was evil.