A/N: Guten Tag. Sorry I haven't updated in a while (is anyone even reading this still?)
I kind-of lost motivation because most of my readers have either disappeared mysteriously or drifted away from the Phandom (whether that be temporarily or permanently, which is fine because it's up to them what their interests are, but it looks a little bit lame from a distance to be writing a story that nobody is reading.
But anyway.
It's updated now and if you're there... you can read it.

Toodles

"I've figured it out."

"Figured what out?"

"What I was wondering earlier. About people's differing attitudes towards you."

"I didn't think there was much to figure out," Phil yawned, putting his arm over the blanket draped over him and looking across to his friend.

Dan was seated by his feet, on the edge of the sofa, and looking to him out of the corner of his eye.

"It's not the eyes," he said, decidedly. He sounded like he had thought this through a lot, and he probably had.

"What is it, then?" Phil asked, raising his eyebrows in scepticism. He was still tied to his belief that it was human nature to dislike some people, and in a way he was right, and he didn't fancy pondering over it so much to attempt to find anything deeper, because in his head there wasn't. The look on Dan's face made it out that he had other ideas.

"It's the fact, I think, that nobody can ever tell what you're thinking," Dan told him.

Phil was silent. He supposed that this was right, but when could you ever tell what anyone was thinking?

"So… it is the eyes?"

"No. No, you just stand there. You stand and stare at the middle-distance and never talk to anyone about how you're feeling. Not to anyone but me, of course," Dan replied, "And with the way you've been acting recently, I wouldn't be surprised if there's a bit of an atmosphere around you."

"Is it less so now?" Phil asked, averting his eyes to look out of the window at the glimmering stars in the black sky outside. You could always get a good view here.

"I think so," Dan nodded, getting to his feet, the springs in the sofa creaking as the weight left them, "I've missed you."

"Missed me?" Phil repeated, perplexed, "I've been here the whole time."

"Maybe physically, but… that wasn't you."

"Am I me now?"

"I think you are, yes," Dan smiled.

He checked the time (late) made sure everything was as it should be and that there were no dangerously-placed half-full cups sitting around waiting to be spilled, and then lay down in his cave of pillows, cushions and blankets on the floor beside the settee. He could hear the sounds of the Howlters asleep peacefully in their bedrooms, and knew that Evan, too, would be fast asleep in his bed back home, across the road. They'd dropped him back home after Chez Llama and both Eliza and Bob seemed happy to see that he was still alive and well – you could never be too careful when leaving your child with Dil's family.

Everything was very peaceful and placid and everyone was fully sated after their meal out in the restaurant. It was no wonder they'd gotten to sleep so fast. Or at least, 3 of them had.

"Funny, isn't it?" Phil purred, his voice sounding like an engine.

"What is?" Dan breathed, looking up to him from the floor.

"How we care so much," Phil replied, blankly, and turned over with a ruffle of bed sheets, "Goodnight, Dan."

"Goodnight," whispered a slightly astounded Dan.

That next day – Thursday – had an objective: a mission to find Erica and make ends meet finally.

It had been easy enough with Summer – even easier with Eliza – but Erica was tricky. One of her traits was 'evil', as Phil remembered, and that's not really something that pairs well with 'friendship'. Not that they had to be friends, of course, just as long as they stopped being such profound enemies, that would be good enough. But fixing the relationship (or lack thereof) that they had now wasn't going to be easy.

"You really think we can do it?"

"Of course," Phil said, firmly. He had decided that he wasn't about to go home without sorting out one of the issues that he and Dan came here to fix, and he wasn't going to do it alone, either. This was, and had to be, a team effort.

It still wasn't clear exactly how they were going to find Erica and reason with her, but calling from Dil's phone was definitely not an option. They wouldn't have a chance if Erica thought that it was Dil calling.

Phil recalled the strange kindness that Pendleton had shown to him when they met at Magnolia Promenade on Monday. She had seemed… confused, almost. Curious was probably the most apt word. And maybe being 'kind' was a way of making sure that Phil didn't avoid her and she could observe him a bit, which was a tiny bit strange, but you couldn't expect anything or anyone to be normal here. Perhaps this wouldn't be as difficult as first expected. Or perhaps it would. Only time would tell.

"When do we start?" Dan enquired, leaning forward on the breakfast bar.

Phil looked back to him, coolly, and licked the last bits of peanut butter off the stainless steel spoon in his hand.

"Whenever," he shrugged with a click of his tongue, and went back to eating peanut butter out of the jar. Dan would have stopped him, but he was mainly just glad that he was eating something that wasn't dry cereal.

The time was about 11am and Dan had a few ideas of what to do. The first time they'd come across Erica had been years ago, in the park. They would check there first to see if she was about, and if she wasn't, they could head downtown to the shopping district. There was a bar there and the museum, and they seemed like good places to look, too. Wherever they looked, though, there had to be another reason for going; if Erica happened to be there and asked them 'what are you doing here?' they couldn't just answer with 'looking for you', talk to her and then leave – that might be a bit stalker-ish – so there had to be another reason for going. The park was simple enough, but a museum wasn't the sort of place you just went to without reason. In which case, it might take a good while to actually get anything done.

In other, shorter, words: they might have to pretend to look at some art and drink a bit for a while to look less awkward.

Maybe it would be fun.

Dan drummed his fingers on the worktop as he thought about when to head out. His thoughts fell away from this subject, though, and drifted to last night.

"Care about what?" He asked, suddenly, lifting his head.

"Pardon?"

"Last night. You said it was funny 'how much we care'. Care about what?"

"This," Phil replied, sticking the spoon in his mouth so he could stretch his arms out to indicate that 'this' meant 'everything', "It's just a game but we care so much," he managed to mumble with a mouth full of peanut butter.

"We created it, I suppose. It's not supposed to be possible, being here and everything, and I guess that just makes it… special. Like our own little family," Dan reasoned.

Phil smiled and closed his eyes,

"Very special," he agreed.