Disclaimer: Greetings, darlings! In case any of you were wondering, no, I have not yet been able to seize ownership of Labyrinth, but I am working on it. I have ingratiated myself with several goblins, and they are putting in good words for me. Though it may be in vain, as goblins seem to have an odd sense of the word 'good'.

Chapter Three

Jareth knew he was in a bad way when even bogging chickens had lost it's appeal.

Slumping into his throne, he massaged his temples and sighed heavily.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, had been the niggling knowledge that his goblins were still talking to Sarah. Just because he'd been stubborn and thrown a bit of a tantrum after she'd rejected him, vowing to swear off mortal dames and their infuriatingly willful ways, didn't mean his subjects had. And really, could he blame them?

Moping, he half-heartedly tossed a crystal across his empty (but for the chickens, of course - the chickens never went away) throne room, watching it shatter into cheerful clouds of glitter. He scowled at it. A sudden wind picked up, gusting in through the window and seizing the remains, pulverizing the pile and scattering the sparkly remnants this way and that.

Smirking triumphantly, he reclined into his throne and draped his lanky limbs over the sides. Sparkle merrily at me, will you…

Right then, at that very instant, he knew that the goblins were in her home, arranging a pile of…gifts… for the girl (Woman, now, actually,) to brighten her day when she returned. He looked musingly at his hands.

Should he give her something?

But…what if she rejected him again?

"Oh good lord, man, pull it together," he snapped at himself, rubbing his temples gingerly. "You will not collapse into an angsty mess."

Deciding what he needed was a good distraction, he took to his feathered form and made his way over to the hedge maze to stalk out a nest of fairies that had taken up residence among one of the gardens and were currently shredding a rose bush that would ensnare anyone who tried to smell or touch it (or passed too close, or looked at it the wrong way, or wore the wrong perfume…it was a very sensitive rosebush). A good round of fairy-swatting should cheer him up…

After saving his flowers from the little beasts, the King dusted off his hands and peered up at the sky. He scowled. It was far too sunny for his liking.

"Why is it never overcast and gloomy when the mood suits me?" he growled to the Labyrinth, who, of course, ignored him. She was a temperamental little pet.

Strolling through one of his favorite parts of the maze, he found himself wondering what sort of gift would be appropriate for the lovely, long-absent Sarah, idly twirling idea-filled baubles through his fingers, tossing them to the side as he rejected each image.

It would be a pretty thing, for her to receive a trinket from her elusive, enigmatic Goblin King, he admitted. Something to put me in her thoughts…

He absently molded the one crystal left in his hand, caressing it into a new shape. He glanced down, realized what he was doing, and shook his head, smirking wryly.

"Jareth, you are an utterly hopeless sap," he told himself, the barest hint of self-deprecating humor in his tone, and concentrated more fully on his task.

I stalked into my room, standing over my bed in abject horror tinged with more than a little rage, glaring down at the offending object in the center of my bed. My fingers curled tight, wanting to hit something, but I forced them straight before I acted upon the urge - only to have them tense again of their own accord. I stood there for an endless moment, futilely clenching and unclenching my fists, before realizing how silly I must look and crossing my arms, spinning around so I wouldn't have to look at the provocative little thing.

Before long, though, I found myself peeking over my shoulder at it, my curiosity and love of shiny objects getting the better of me. I glared at it again, but, seeing as it wasn't moving, I felt a little stupid just standing there staring at it. I reached over and picked it up.

It was a rose. Or rather, a length of crystal shaped like a rose, glittering and refracting the light, creating ever-shifting rainbows in it's depths.

I sighed. It's beautiful.

"Of course it is. What else would it be, given who it came from?" I said wryly to myself, and shook my head. It was light, barely there at all, and warm to the touch, as though someone had just been holding it.

Suddenly, my stomach dropped and I whipped around, eyes prying at the shadows of my room, seeking the definitive, wild-haired, wide-caped form of the king I'd defeated so long ago. Think ten years is long enough to get over a grudge?

Of course, there was no one there.

Letting out the breath I hadn't known I was holding, I returned to the living room, the rose clenched in my hand. Standing beside the T.V., I held it up.

"Who is this from?" I asked, though I already knew perfectly well. I guess a little part of me was still hoping perhaps one of the goblins had pilfered it from someone's house (like the flask), and had, in a spur of romantic idealism (was not romantic, it was creepy - I don't want him near my bed, I told myself firmly) placed it artfully in the middle of my bed.

"From King, prolly," affirmed Tooka, his bright beak mere inches from the screen. I sighed, ignoring the little flutter in my stomach that his words brought, and picked him up, setting him back a few feet. He never even blinked.

"Don't sit so close, you'll go blind," I warned him, though I had a feeling I could have told him he'd just spontaneously combusted and it would have had the same effect. Kids today, I thought. Brains rotted by television and glittery kings.

I returned to my room, standing at the foot of my bed and surveying the space before me, tapping the bloom of the still-warm crystal rose lightly against my pursed lips. Then I sighed again, scowling at the thing.

"I can't believe I'm trying to find a place to put a ornament from the guy who sent a whirling metal-bladed death-trap hurling down a dead-end tunnel at me," I said. I turned and plopped on my bed, lying back and throwing my arms wide. Frowning, I noticed my free hand was making a quiet crinkling noise. Flexing my fingers, I picked up a slip of paper and brought it to my face, studying the flowing, elegant script that glided across it.

My Dear Sarah,

A little gift to cheer you up, if perchance the pickles were not satisfactory. Hope tomorrow holds fewer sorrows for you.

Jareth, Goblin King

"Yeah, like I didn't know who it was from," I said scathingly, unable to find anything else to ridicule. This was… uncharacteristic of him. Almost, dare I say, sweet.

I found the crystal petals at my lips again, as I considered this new turn of events. I held the rose in front of me, making my decision.

"Well, 'one good deed cannot redeem a lifetime of wickedness', as the saying goes," I said, opening my nightstand drawer and dropping it in. I shut it firmly, and strode back to the kitchen, not once casting a backwards glance.

Alright, well, maybe once.

He knew better.

He knew better.

"Once you let her in, she'll trample all over you, corrupt your subjects, destroy your castle, and ignore perfectly decent peace offerings in favor of furry pickles," Jareth raged to himself, after having angrily tossed the twelfth orb in the last few hours to join it's brethren in the growing pile of glitter behind his throne. He snapped his crop irritably against his leg, taking perverse pleasure in causing himself the physical sting as compared to the mental agony he'd incurred. He knew he was dissolving into an angsty mess again, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"In a drawer. In a drawer!" he moaned, covering his face in his hands. He sighed, draping his lanky form over the arms of his throne and lay limply, arms dangling to the floor.

"All that precision planning, all that attention, dropped in a drawer to be kept away out of sight. Lifetime of evil, indeed. At least I know what to do with a gift," he grumbled.

After wallowing petulantly for a few more minutes, he conjured another orb, idly shifting it through his fingers as he remembered the look on her face as she had momentarily considered displaying his present somewhere. Remembered how she'd lightly tapped the rose against her (delectable) lips, wondered what it would feel like to press his fingers against them…

He heaved another sigh. "You disgust me," he told the wild-haired reflection in the crystal he held. "Since when do Kings sit about and mope over a girl? This is horribly undignified." He tossed the glass ball away carelessly, adding yet another casualty to the mound of sparkly remains (of which there were several piles scattered around his throne room, placed quite strategically to surround the King and usurp the throne, if they were so inclined) and swished his riding crop aimlessly.

"Well, I suppose progress has been made…" he admitted, mentally replaying her discovery of his gift. Ten years ago, she would have tossed the offering in the trash and been done with it. "Perhaps the second attempt will fare better…" he murmured, and swirled the several crystals that suddenly appeared in his hand.

I stood in my bathroom, glaring at the elfin-looking cut glass bowl sitting on my counter, filled with exquisitely delicate leaves made from soap. Their lavender-esque scent wafted throughout the room. I hadn't remembered how much I liked the smell of lavender. It was a little unnerving that Jareth seemed to know I did, however.

What I was really glaring at, though, was the crystalline rose nestled among the ivory leaves.

"Really?" I huffed, eyeing it sideways. "You're that audacious?" Oh, who was I kidding. Audacious was Jareth's middle name. Well, one of them, along with 'cocky', 'irritating', 'manipulative', 'sparkly', 'violent', 'temperamental'… the list went on.

Of course, there's also 'beautiful, 'mysterious', 'powerful', 'well-endowed'…I shook my head to derail that train of thought.

Last night, I had left the rose safely tucked away in my nightstand drawer, where I wouldn't be tempted to do something silly, like toss is into the garbage disposal or something (like gaze lovingly at it until I fell asleep, wondering if I could see him if I turned it the right way…after all, his crystals show your dreams, don't they?) This morning, however, I had lumbered into my bathroom to find the thing sitting jauntily in it's new home, indicating more meddling from the heretofore absent King.

Scowling, I turned away from the ostentatious (but really nice smelling) display refusing to admit that it actually did complement the deep maroons and purples I had decorated in, and stomped on the little warm, fluttery feeling that had arisen in my stomach region. Huffing, I decided was going to flush them all down the toilet. And then I was going to throw the rose in the garbage disposal.

"Teach him to sneak around my house," I muttered darkly, wondering vaguely if crystal melted when it got hot enough. I was pretty sure the chop shop down the street had a blowtorch…

My musings were tragically cut short as Domino started barking manically in my bedroom, accompanied by a sound not unlike that of a herd of lemurs with a karaoke machine, and I ran to see what the commotion was.

"Oh no," I moaned.

The goblins were in my socks again.

Every single sock I owned - my dress socks, my toe-socks, my fuzzy socks, that one pink stripe sock with no partner, even my fishnet thigh-highs - had been pulled out and either lay on my floor, or were in a goblin's possession.

Or, rather, I should say the socks were in possession of the goblins.

For some unfathomable reason, the little critters thought it was the height of hilarity to stretch my socks, pull them over their heads and squeeze inside (the farther the better - the goal seemed to be leaving only from their knees down free to move), and then charge headlong around the room, utterly blind, and scream like banshees.

Domino came to stand next to me, growling at any goblin who neared him, and looked up at me with long-suffering eyes.

"Don't you look at me like that, it's your job to make sure this doesn't happen," I scolded, cocking a hand on my hip and looking sternly down at him. He whined and bumped his shoulder against my leg. I sighed.

"I know, I know, they're sneaky." My gaze returned to the noisy, ridiculous chaos before me.

At present, there seemed to be seven or so goblins running amok in various states blindness around my bed, while perched upon it were two others, each with a rather different costume. Dizz, who was holding a squishy yellow stress ball with a happy face on it, was sitting regally above his companions, watching the events below much like Caesar would have watched his Roman games.

He had also stuffed a wad of socks down his pants, obviously imitating another ruler.

Next to him was a spunky little fellow with a brown washrag draped over his head. He had donned one of my red lacey bras (which was also stuffed with socks, though it was still far too big for him), and wielding a plastic spork with a Cheeto stabbed on the end of it.

I gaped.

"Guys! What do you think you're doing?" I yelled over the din. Most of the screaming died down, and several of them stopped running. Gimp, whom I recognized by his unique footwear, had not stopped moving, and barreled into a fellow sock-wearer, both of them tumbling to the floor with muffled "oof's".

"Why have you stopped?" screeched the underwear thief. "Lady Sarah did not say for you to stop!"

I frowned at him. "I'm Sarah, and I do say stop," I objected, but Dizz shook his head.

"No! This is Lady Sarah, Lady Sarah," he informed me, pointing to his companion. "See? Has the scepter." The alleged Lady Sarah waved the spork tauntingly. I widened my eyes, looking as awestruck as possible.

"Oh, my. What a pretty scepter!" I gushed, walking forward and gazing at it covetously. My impersonator beamed.

"I made it."

"I've never seen anything so beautiful. Can I see it?" I asked, and, still glowing with obvious pride, he held out the spork for my inspection. Before he could see though my devious plan, I whipped my hand out and snatched the 'scepter', quickly running away and holding it over my head triumphantly.

"Hah! Now I have the scepter, so I'm Lady Sarah, right?" I crowed. Dizz and most of the others cheered, while the fallen monarch gaped at me, horrified.

"Good! Then my first decree is that I am now and forevermore Lady Sarah, regardless of what anyone says, and my second is that you must all cease violating my socks instantly and return them to their rightful home!" I commanded, impervious to the wave of groans that swept over me.

"Oh, now, come on. Tell you what, when your done, I'll fix you guys up the leftover Mexican," I said, to cheers from the goblins and an aghast look from Domino.

I looked sideways at him. "What? Don't give me that look. You were lax in your duties," I reprimanded. He sulked and gave me his puppy eyes.

"Oh no, you'll have to take it up with them now, it's their food."

Fifteen minutes later, Domino lay on his back, tail wagging happily, in the center of the living room while the goblins rubbed his tummy and fed him bits of their lunch. I rolled my eyes at him as I passed on the way to my room.

"Shameless, puppy. Shameless."

He grinned upside-down at me, tongue lolling out.

Shaking my head and smiling a little, I went and dressed for work. It was such a cruel thing to have to return to that damned bookstore, after the scarring events of yesterday, but sadly, I still had two days left of reading scheduled. I was hoping that perhaps they would just turn me away when I showed up, sparing us both the embarrassment of having to pretend I wasn't the World's Greatest Twit.

As I sat down on my bed to slip my shoes on, I stopped and checked to be sure the space was clear before I put my weight down. Last night, I made the unfortunate discovery that the goblins also slept with their pickles - one had been tucked warmly under my covers, and another had been stashed under my pillow.

I'd immediately stripped the bed and changed the sheets. No way was I sharing my bed with food that had better hair than me.

Darting into the bathroom to grab my brush, I saw the forgotten gifts sitting on the counter again, and this time noticed a slip of paper that I'd overlooked before. I picked it up, scowling again.

My Dear Sarah,

Since it seemed that you were lacking for an appropriate place to display my last gift, I have generously provided one. I hope it's placement is adequate to your tastes.

"Oh my, what a lovely room! Who is your decorator?" I asked myself in a mockingly appreciative voice.

"Oh, the Goblin King, he's just marvelous. Have you heard of him?" I answered, affecting a snobbish, high-strung air of indifference. "He does wonders with chickens."

In addition to being a rather appealing decorative piece, the leaves also make a superb bath supplement. Quite comforting after a hard day.

"Are you telling me you take bubble baths?" I said incredulously, shaking my head. Although, on second thought, was it really all that surprising?

Hope your day goes well, darling.

Yours, Jareth.

I shivered at his phrasing. No, I shuddered with revulsion. Big difference, I told myself firmly, writing off the little tingle I felt in my stomach as hunger. Good god, but I was a ridiculous creature.

P.S. - Please feel free to dispose of the mutated pickles as you see fit. I don't particularly wish them to return to my kingdom. In fact, I am much enjoying their absence. For once, I can sit in my throne without fear.

I laughed at that, despite myself. I couldn't help but imagine the Goblin King, in all his otherworldly, wild glory, having to chuck furry pickles out of his throne before taking a seat. Smiling, I propped the note against the little display, deciding that maybe it didn't look so terrible, after all. I returned to getting ready, a stubborn smile stuck on my face.

After dressing (casually today - I knew there wouldn't be anyone there worth, or under my ability, to impress), I returned to the living room and flipped on the T.V., setting it harmlessly on channels I knew would be safe for little goblin minds, regardless of what time of day I returned.

"Alright, fellas, I have to go warp the minds unsuspecting children with tales your insane adventures. Don't trash the house," I warned as I gathered my things, the goblins answering with a collective "H'okay, Lady Sarah!".

"That's it!" Jareth roared, flinging the crystal he'd been using so hard it demolished the pile it flew into, and storming over to the nearest chicken.

"All chickens are henceforth banned from my throne room!"

And he spent the next several minutes tossing chickens out of the room, which turned out to be a surprisingly therapeutic activity.

Once his domain was sufficiently poultry-free, he looked around at the walls, tapping a finger thoughtfully against his nose. After a moment, he twirled his hand in a careless fashion, and the from the walls sprung tapestries of imperial midnight blue and rich wine-purples, the circular depression in the center of the room overflowed with dark velvet pillows and cushions, the many ledges and stonework shelves held bright-flamed candles that cast flickering, feather-light shadows about the room, the windows were clothed in flowing gold silk and the stones fairly glimmered with the magic that saturated the room.

Looking around, he gave a satisfied nod, and returned to his throne, lounging regally. Now this was more like the abode of a king.

However, it was not the abode of a Goblin King.

He sighed, slouching a little bit, and pouted. Well, he'd just have to let his subjects know that if they so much as thought about holding a chicken race, or a shoe-tossing competition, or a festival of food fights, or starting a brawl, or any of their numerous other destructive activities in his throne room he would hang every last one of them above the bog by their pinky toes, with their noses a bare half inch from the water, for the rest of their miserable lives.

Feeling slightly better at this prospect, he conjured another crystal and replayed the bit where Sarah shivered and smiled and laughed at his note several times over.

All in all, the day wasn't too terrible. I heard whispers following me as I walked by, several times all chatter stopped them moment I walked into a room, and one or two parents who had routinely brought their kids to my readings were absent, but no one was blatantly mean to me. I decided to hope that this would all blow over quickly. After all, I wasn't a celebrity. I was an eccentric children's author who lived in an uncrowded area of upstate New York, well away from the bustle and smog of city lights and popularity. I stayed a little longer than usual, helping the employees clean up in an attempt to worm myself back into their good graces (I think progress was made - no one keyed my car or anything), and didn't start home until nearly dark.

I trudged up to my apartment, carrying numerous heavy bags of groceries (with goblins around all the time, it was important to keep myself stocked on bribe foods) and puffing a little as I tried to remember which pocket my key was in. As I searched my coat, I wondered if the goblins were still there. Maybe if we had story time early tonight, I could get a bath in… A nice, peaceful, relaxing soak would be heaven, after the past few days. Besides, I had those new leaf-things to try out… I firmly told myself that I wanted to take a bath strictly because I found them relaxing, not because I wanted to use Jareth's little gift. It had nothing to do with Jareth.

I finally opened my door, shouldering through and rustling the bags noisily.

"Hey, guys, guess who brought home cookies!" I called, dragging myself into the kitchen, but the only one who came to greet me was Domino.

"Hmm. Just us tonight, huh boy?" I said. Mister Puppy methodically investigated the offerings I'd brought to him, and, seeing nothing in the nature of bones or treats, yawned disinterestedly and trotted back to my room, returning to his claimed spot on my bed and rolling around a bit to make sure the blankets were sufficiently disheveled.

Rolling my eyes at him, I put the new additions to my food stocks away, and tried not to run (or skip or dance, or anything so undignified) to the tub and draw a bath.

As the hot water ran, I quickly changed into my robe and gathered several candles, some nice, soothing music, a sappy romance book, and a glass of wine, returning to my waiting privacy fully prepared to spend the next several hours pampering myself.

Setting my things up, I turned to the new addition in my décor, hesitating before I grabbed a handful of the leaves to toss in the bath. This isn't some sort of trick, is it?

Smirking, I scooped some up and scattered them in the running, steamy water. If I suddenly turned up naked in the Labyrinth, Jareth was going to be in for a whole lot more than he bargained for.

In but a few moments, the entire tub had filled with bubbles. It was a good thing I didn't flush those things down the toilet, after all - I'd have been swimming in bubbles. Grinning, I stepped into the scorching water and slowly settled myself down, sighing as I was engulfed in the flower-scented foam and leaning back, closing my eyes in pure bliss.

I cracked an eye after a moment, peering over at the wine glass in my hand. Maybe Jareth wasn't such a villain after all… I mean, when's the last time I'd heard of a villain giving the plucky, conquering heroine a crystal rose and lavender-scented bubble-bath leaves? Maybe he was just the unsung, misunderstood romantic hero, in need of (a good shag?) some TLC…

I groaned and slipped under the water, blowing up air bubbles. Good lord, next I was going to be saying things like "Sending the Cleaners after me was all a result of your terrible childhood, it's alright", and "I understand you, Jareth, let's get together and make pretty babies".

Resurfacing, I shook my head, spraying water all over the place, and resolutely picked up my book, firmly deciding to think of nothing but a hopelessly sentimental couple struggling to get past their pride and circumstantial past events and other such nonsense so they could be together like everyone knew they should be. Stupid prats.

It would have been easier to concentrate if the heroine hadn't kept making stupid decisions and then whining about it not being fair (Sounds a little familiar, doesn't it?). I scowled. It was maddening. I was sure I'd never been that bad…

Well…alright, maybe I had, but I'd gotten better. (And what's your basis for comparison? When you dropped his rose in your drawer? Or when you considered disposing of his lovely little bath leaves using your toilet?)

I sighed, letting the book fall outside the tub, rumpling goodness knows how many pages, and sank down in the water, leaving only from my nose up exposed. I moped for a few minutes, idly playing with the bubbles, and glanced at the rose sitting on the counter.

Should I tell him thank you?

But, what was I supposed to do? Give him a hallmark? Send him a quiche? It just didn't feel… appropriate.

I smirked. Maybe I should write another song for the goblins to sing to him. After all, it was fitting for the hall of a king to be filled with the singing of his subjects, was it not?

I chuckled mischievously at the thought. It was downright mean, and I wouldn't do it, but oh, would it be funny…

Nearly knocking over my glass of wine, I strained to reach the rose on the counter, seizing it and nearly dropping it with soapy fingers, and pondered over it as I relaxed back into my tub. Absently tracing the petals, I wondered over what sort of thank you would be appropriate, ranging from the simple: a nice card?- (a pair of pants? Either leather or spandex would be nice…); to the hopelessly extravagant: a full-length gilded mirror? (That allowed access to my bedroom?), though, knowing him, he probably already had plenty of those…; to the utterly ridiculous: perhaps a large cake with a sing-o-gram popping out of it (Or a strip-o-gram, me of course); until my bath water chilled and I decided to get out before I caught pneumonia.

Drying off and cleaning up, I blew out my candles one by one, leaving the last lit for a moment as I brushed my hair out. I studied my reflection in the mirror critically for a moment. In the unsteady light of the single flaming wick, my green eyes glinted blackly and my hair tangled damply over my shoulders, my skin shone with an eerie gold light, my cheekbones looked higher and my winter-robe-clad figure looked slightly more lithe and powerful than usual.

I looked like a faerie queen of old, straight out of a terrifying Black Forest legend, capable of all manner of trickery and deceit and cruelty.

A little unnerved by the comparison, I quickly leaned over and blew out the candle, making my way back to my room from memory.

Domino complained as I shoved him over to make room for me, and I scratched his ears in apology. He accepted, and stretched, snuggling back up to me and snuffling my damp hair as I snuggled into my pillow. I smiled at him in the dark.

"No eating Momma's hair, puppy. I just got all good-smelling."

He snorted groggily and tucked his head against my chest. I gave him a sleepy kiss on his furry forehead (oh, no, I hadn't checked for pickles…) and draped an arm around him. It was hard to be compared to a viciously magnificent faerie queen when you were snuggled up to a disturbingly intelligent, spotted puppy.

The next morning, I had forgotten the disturbing image and was concerned with nothing more terrifying than facing the prospect of another long day reading to children who's parents thought I was a raving lunatic. Which was actually quite terrifying enough, thank you.

Author's Note: Oh, good gravy, this chapter was fun. I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. (And, of course, I sqeezed in my little tribute to Envy. If you know not to which I refer, please check out the loverly little link in my profile. Trust me, it's quite worth it.)

And no, I'm not telling any of you whether or not Jareth was being a naughty boy and watching Sarah's bath. (Because let's face it, we all know the answer.)

A big squeezy hug to all my reviewers! Thanks a million, dolls. Furry pickles for all. (...Er, perhaps not. I don't want to run you off...) Reviews are cool!

Fyreheart: Thank you, darling! Goodness, I do love flattery.

Lov2catnap: *Bows* You're too gracious, darling. But please, feel free to continue.

Natsuko37: *Joins in the Righteous Rally* I'm so glad you enjoyed the verbal flaying he recieved! I felt quite justified writing it. I'd also had Sarah socking him in the face, but I thought it may be taking my little daydream of what I'd like to do to my boss a little too far, haha. (And sadly, no, Sarah's bustier is still missing. I have a sneaking suspicion Skeep may have ran off with it...)

Notwritten: How could I not with such a delightful array of goblins at my fingertips?

Athena's Avatar: Thank you! I do hope I continue to meet your standards. Feel free to slap me with the nearest blunt object if I become droll and unbearable. (Though please warn me first, I need to save whatever brain cells I have left.)

Leannapotter: Oh, good heavens, that would mean Jareth is running around pantsless... pardon me a moment, just remembered I left the oven on... *Dashes of to claim pantsless Jareth before he gets mobbed (Or finds his pants)*

LDeetz: Oh, poor pet. That sounds awful. Glad I was able to amuse you, after such a similarly traumatic experience, and please extend my warm wishes to Charm the Cat. (*Domino perks up* Cat? Oh, dear. Charm should probably run now.)