"Well?" Constance asked brightly. "Where are we?"

"Not totally sure..." John spoke quietly, more to himself than his friend. "Somewhere off the northern coast of Midnight, I believe." He fiddled with the dials until a clear pictures came through on the screen. "Yep, I was right." He looked up and grinned. "Want to go exploring?"

She grinned back, and skipped towards the doors. "Wait!" John called after her. "You'll need a suit."

Constance turned, her smile now a pout. "But John..."

"I know you hate them, but the air is poisonous." He got two suits out of the closet, one red, one green.

"It's not that I hate it, I just look ridiculous." She took the green suit, and hesitated."Don't you dare laugh."

He smiled. "I'll do my best."

She sighed, slipping on the suit, complete with a helmet tinted green. "Well?"

John tried so hard not to laugh, but the effort was futile. She was right, she did look so funny.

Constance tried to scowl, but couldn't help smiling. "John..."

Whit awoke, laughing in his sleep. He sat up and glanced at the clock. 2:37. He sighed, and lay back down.

AIOAIOAIOAIO

"Shh." Whit whispered. He held out a hand, helping Constance up from the polished marble floor.

"Sorry," she whispered back. "But this floor is slippery."

They crept along, staying out of sight from the 55th Century high-tech security cameras. Constance almost fell again, but John caught her before she hit the floor a second time.

"Thanks," she said, then gasped. John followed her line of sight and smothered a laugh.

"We found it!" He took her hand. "Come on!"

They quietly ran towards the centre display. There, in their glass and diamond cases, stood the most beautiful vases Constance had ever seen. John took out his Sonic Screwdriver and started working on getting the case open.

"So... That's new. Where'd you get it?" Constance motioned to the Screwdriver.

"A friend gave me the plans, and I built one last night." John said, and after a second, the case popped open. Constance squealed, and John clapped a hand over her mouth. "SHH."

"Sorry." She grinned sheepishly. She took a sack out of her purse, which was bigger on the inside, and held it open. John slipped the vases inside.

"Why are we doing this again?" She asked.

"Because," John put another one it, "this time tomorrow this place will have vanished. 'The lost moon of Poosh' will become the centre of conversation and study for thousands of years. We'll return these to Poosh when we get the chance. They'll thank us." With that, he carefully set the last vase inside, and tied the top shut. Constance put the sack inside her purse.

"Why can't we just tell the president of Poosh that his moon and a museum on it will go missing tomorrow, and let them do this?" Constance asked nervously, looking around for security guards.

"You think they'd believe us?"

Connie shook her head. "No," she admitted. "So... How do we get out? We can't go the same way we came; the guard will be there by now."

"I know..." John thought for a moment, and started to say something, but was interrupted by a shout.

"Hey you! Stay where you are!"

"Feel up to running?" He grabbed her hand and grinned.

"When am I not?" She laughed, and they took off running through the hall.

"Slow down, John; you know I'm slower than you!" Connie said. She opened her eyes, and sat up. "That was... Weird." She said aloud. She glanced at the clock. It read 6:46, so she decided to get up. She showered, and walked to Whit's End just as the sun was coming up.

She stuck the key in the lock, but it was already open. She opened the door cautiously.

"Whit? Eugene?" She called. The only answer she got was the echo of her own voice bouncing around the empty shop.

Whit must have left it unlocked by accident, she rationalized.

She slowly walked towards the front counter, then paused. She took a deep breath, and quickly peeked behind the counter. Nobody. You're paranoid, Connie. She shook her head, and went to the kitchen to finish the dishes she had left the night before. She was trying to figure out what the heck was Poosh, when she heard a rather large crash upstairs. Oh no.

She went to the bottom of the stairs."He-hello?" She squeaked. Visions of Hank Murray flashed through her brain, so she decided to call the police. Better safe than sorry, she decided.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Ms. Kendall." Connie felt a hand on her arm, the arm with which she was holding her smart phone. She froze, too terrified to move.

"Who... who are you?" She whispered, barely audible. The hand was cold, with a scaly feel; with long fingernails that brushed her arm.

The hand moved up her arm to the base of her neck, nails brushing her throat; nails that could easily slice it. She caught a glimpse of a long forked tongue out of the corner of her eye. "That doesn't matter. What matters is you." The Thing chuckled, then hissed, "You, my dear, are going to help me."

AIOAIOAIOAIO

Ding! Eugene hurried into the shop.

"Apologies for being so late, Ms. Kendall, Katrina is down with a cold, and I needed to-" He stopped, eyes widened. "Uhh..."

"What, Eugene?" Connie smiled, perhaps a bit too wide.

"It's just that I've never seen this place so... Clean." He spun slowly around, taking it all in. "What time did you get here this morning?"

"Oh, around 7:15." She coughed twice, and cleared her throat.

"Are you coming down with something also?" Eugene moved towards her, concern written on his face. "Your voice is a bit dry."

"I'm fine." She quickly dismissed him, stepping farther back. "Just... Gotta get the voice down."

Eugene raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing, nothing." She continued cleaning off the counter, keeping her back to her concerned friend. "I'm alright."

"If you say so..." He slipped off his coat and hung it on the rack. Once he had disappeared into the kitchen, Connie took a deep breath.

"Get ahold of yourself." She dropped the cloth into the sink. "This'll never work if you slip up."

"Good morning, Connie!" Whit strolled in the door.

"Morning, Whit." She tried to sound as normal as possible.

"I had the weirdest dream last night," he said, setting several shopping bags on the counter. "We were traveling in this... Ship, of sorts."

"Oh really?" This sounded promising.

"Yeah, and you didn't want to put on a space suit."

"...is that all?"

"Yeah, I think so. Or all I can remember."

Drat.

"Alright, well, I'd better get to work." With that, he tied on his apron and went into the kitchen. Connie sighed, and unloaded the bags. Oranges, peaches, milk. Double drat.

She put the milk in the fridge. She turned to put the oranges away, and a wave of dizziness swept over her. She grabbed the counter for support, and stumbled to the closest booth, resting her head on the table. When she felt like she was able to stand again, she slowly made her way to the handicapped washroom. She locked the door behind her, then collapsed.

The Thing picked itself up, leaving Connie on the floor. It dusted itself off, smiling to itself. I was able to possess her for three hours and nobody suspects a thing.

Connie raised herself slightly off the floor. "Oh so that's what you look like," She panted, "I couldn't get a good look at you before you jumped into my body like that. Is that what you are? A body-jumper?" The Thing didn't reply, so she asked, "What do you want?" Fright wasn't the predominant feeling she had right now; she felt extremely annoyed and mad that her privacy had been breached in this way.

"Now that would be telling, wouldn't it." He smiled evilly. "But I suppose there wouldn't be any harm in telling you."