A/N: Sorry this chapter's a bit short. Is anyone even reading this anymore? Who knows. I was so traumatized by the end of the PINOF bloopers that I couldn't focus on writing, but I'm sure you can relate to that.
Alright, that's all.

Toodles,
-Whisker

Phil's prediction about the awkward spoon-feeding had been correct. One thing he was learning, though, was to accept the awkward moments as they came and he'd figured out that the situations he found himself in and being silly was probably what fun is. He hadn't had fun in a while – not since the masquerade, probably – and he was enjoying being back to himself again. Even he knew he was back to himself.

He was currently telling Tabitha and Dil all about The Amazing Tour is Not On Fire, and every time he turned to listen to Dan say something, he'd be presented with another spoon of fruit gel, which had taken some getting used to, but now he actually quite liked it. It was just like the middle of a Turkish delight but with other flavours like melon or grape, and here and there a flavour that he didn't recognise.

"You should have seen the outfits we had," Dan grinned, thinking back to their glittery suits as he took a serviette and gently wiped a spot of foam from the side of his friend's mouth. Dan had also stolen some of his meal, too. Not that it mattered, because he was busy feeding his friend plenty anyway.

"Mm-hh," Phil hummed, trying to say 'uh-huh!' without opening his mouth and failing miserably.

"We had canes!" Dan continued, enthusiastically, "And hats! Gold, sparkly top hats to go with the gold tail-coats."

Phil made a motion with his hands in front of his neck and mumbled slightly, trying to communicate something that would definitely be taken the wrong way if anybody but Dan tried to interpret it.

"You're right, Phil, we had bowties, too, didn't we?" Dan replied, sounding surprised as if he was shocked at himself forgetting about the tiny black bowties like it was some sort of criminal offence.

"Were they gold, too?" Dab asked.

"No, they were black," Phil replied, finally, swallowing.

"That's not as exciting," Dab sighed.

"You can't have everything," Dan frowned, "Besides, I like black; it's my aesthetic."

Dab was going to say something more, but he was cut off by somebody talking over a microphone. That had never happened before…

Phil's mind shot straight to a worst-case scenario as always: evacuation. He calmly covered up his internalised panic by sipping the last dregs of wine from his glass and placed it carefully on the empty plate in front of him.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" An aristocratic lady's voice announced from… somewhere, rattling through the speakers, "For those uninformed, today is a very special night!"

Dan was frozen, a spoon of foam wobbling between his soft, round fingertips, and Phil hiccupped and coughed at the same time in alarm. 'Special night'? What was that supposed to mean? Was somebody getting married or something?

"Because tonight… is karaoke night!" The voice finished, excitedly, and everyone in the restaurant applauded, the clapping reverberating around the room, in approval.

Everyone, that is, save from the Howlters, their friend and their two creators.

"Of all the possible nights!" Phil hissed, hiding his face in his hands. He knew that he wasn't obliged to get up and sing, but something told him that some way or another he would get up there anyway. He didn't remember Chez Llama ever having a karaoke machine, but he'd learned not to question anything in this world even back in February.

"Too bad Summer isn't here," Dan whispered to him, teasingly, "She would have loved to be your singing partner, wouldn't she?"

"Hey, well, she's not here," Phil retorted, shoving him away in a sort-of fake annoyance that may or may not have actually been fake. He didn't have many memories of past karaoke experiences, but the ones that he did have and remembered were not exactly his proudest moments.

"She's not," Dan repeated, nodding, thoughtfully, "But I am."

Phil could see where this was going and he dreaded the incoming request he'd probably receive. He was dreading even more having to get up anyway even when he refused.

"Come on; we can duet," Dan insisted, getting to his feet and forcefully pulling his friend with him.

"Dan, I- I can't sing," Phil tried to communicate, but was stunned into silence from the dizziness that struck him as he suddenly got up.

"Of course you can; I've heard you before," Dan huffed, putting a secure arm around him to keep him steady, "Now, will you?"

Phil flashed a terrified glance to the Howlters and Evan and the look in his wide eyes was the epitome of dismay, but the only sight he was met with was smug faces and nods of encouragement.

"Fine," he groaned, reluctantly, and Dan flashed him a slightly manic grin.

"Come on, then!" He chirruped, leading his best friend by the arm down to the other tables where they could look up to the stage. There, people were happily chattering between themselves and some were getting up to the stage where there was a karaoke machine with a screen set up ready for them.

"Won't the songs be different here?" Phil reasoned, his heart thumping from nerves, "We won't know any of them."

"That's why they have the lyrics," Dan said, flatly, "Come along now…"