Disclaimer: Pants, magic pants...Sexy magic pants...
(You are thoroughly distracted by the talk of Jareth's pants, aren't you? Far too distracted to be angry at me, yes? Or to notice me stealing the legal paperwork concerning ownership of Labyrinth?)
Thanks to my beta, lov2catnap because she is invaluable and I adore her.
And on a side note, this chapter is dedicated to MayFeiScarlette, because she said 'please'. :)
Chapter Eight
It had been nearly a week since I'd seen hide or hair of the goblins.
Six days of peace, quiet, and cleanliness, during which I had taken eight baths, six naps, and only one trip to the grocery and hardware stores. My entire apartment was a shining example of order and style. The kitchen fan was fixed, I had a new T.V. and blender, and my socks were completely untouched and free of even a hint of glitter.
And I hated it.
I couldn't believe how appallingly boring the last few days had been. After the novelty of a clean apartment had worn off, I realized that there was just nothing to do. Domino was equally unhappy, and had taken to staring in a mopey manner at my sock drawer, as though wishing there were a goblin or two trying to ransack it.
I agreed with his sentiments.
The blizzard had finally died off several hours ago, and after being cooped up with no one but a grumpy puppy and a depressingly spotless apartment, I jumped at the chance to get away from the insufferable heat of brought on by the still-malfunctioning central air system. Domino and I took an extra long walk, on which he chased a ridiculous number squirrels - I suspect that several of them were actually imaginary, and he was simply running for the sheer joy of making me flail along behind him - and sniffed every plant larger than a grasshopper that we came across.
After being bribed back to the apartment with promises of bacon and fried chicken, Domino promptly crashed on the living room floor and filled the room with the loud snores of a satisfied puppy.
I smiled fondly at him and snatched up my keys, still wanting to roam around a bit.
I skipped down to my car, overjoyed to be outside, even if it was still frigid and overcast. I tried to use my remote to unlock my car from several spaces away and was unsurprised when it didn't work - despite the fact that I had only driven my car once during the Goblin Storm, two days ago, my car was completely free of snow. There was also a clear path for me to drive out to the road.
I was fairly certain the maintenance guys hadn't done that, especially since the snow that had been removed from my car had been piled into a lovely depiction of a small, lumpy thing with a teapot stuck on one of it's four lower limbs.
I manually unlocked my door and nearly made the mistake of not checking before sliding into the driver's seat, where the confirmation to my suspicions regarding my snow-free car lay.
There was a particularly fuzzy pickle on the seat, with a blue-crayon note scrawled on a crumpled scrap of paper next to it.
Ladee Sara
This iz mi favrit pikel for wen yoo gets lonlee or sad.
Dun wury, King sez we kin cum bak soon.
Luv, Gimp
I smiled, and gently moved the pickle to the passenger seat.
I missed my goblins.
Originally, I had intended to just drive at random, but found myself instead pulling into the parking lot of the local party supply store. Wandering around inside, I found all sorts of things to use as 'royalties' for the goblins, and several hours later I huffed out to my car with a silly smile plastered all over my face and several bulging bags of goodies.
I couldn't wait for them to get back.
It took a little doing, but after a few minutes I managed to get everything wedged into the back seat and hopped up front, absently wondering if I had any good mix tapes in the glove box, and started the car.
Or, tried to.
My engine spluttered and coughed, the fell abruptly silent. Viciously cold horror ran through me, and I clenched my eyes shut, chanting a mantra to the Gods of Working Cars as I twisted the key over and over, always with the same result.
After a dozen or so tries, I gave up and let my head fall against my steering wheel.
"I miss my goblins, I miss my goblins, I miss my goblins," I told myself, shoving open my door and hauling myself out of my useless, magic-sabotaged car so I could pace around it angrily and throw furious glances at it.
Once I had calmed down enough to be reasonably sure I wouldn't swear violently at the poor fellow on the other end of the line, I stomped over to a payphone and pulled out my contact book and stared at it, wondering if it contained the number for a tow truck. I rifled through, feeling sickeningly positive that it didn't, and suddenly paused, midway through the G's.
Garner, Jeff.
My fingers hovered over the coin deposit, wondering if calling him would be a mistake. I already knew he had mild feelings for me… would I be digging myself an even bigger hole?
On the other hand, did I really want to call a taxi?
My thumb pressed a quarter in of it's own accord, and my wallet agreed with its sentiments.
***
Jeff was having a very hard time not ginning like an idiot, and possibly bouncing around a bit and whooping in delight.
Not only had Sarah called him, but she needed help. There was no better way to engender trust with a woman than to be there for her when she needed help, and trust was a sidewalk on the road to physical attraction.
Really, this couldn't have gone better if he'd planned it. Aside from the fact that Sarah's car was inexplicably dead, of course. But, viewed in the right light, really, even that could be a blessing…
"I have no idea, Sarah. The engine is sound, all the wires are connected, and the battery is charged. The starter's working, ignition switch is aligned - everything seems fine, except that it won't start," he said, strategically wiping of the grease that was smudged on his hands onto his jeans in a rugged, manly manner. Grease could be a fellow's best friend if correctly applied: there was a calculated smear on his cheek, where it would highlight his strong jaw and contrast his big blue eyes; a handprint had been wiped across his chest to accentuate it's broadness and draw attention to his impressive tone; and the elongated grease smudge on his pants focused the eye on both his derrière and defined his muscled thighs.
It was quite an ingenious set up.
However, it would work better if Sarah were inclined to spare his efforts a glance now and again.
She had been completely ignoring him, alternating between restless pacing and moping against her passenger door, casting hateful looks at the packages and bags stuffed into the backseat. If Jeff didn't know better, he would almost think she was laying the blame for her misfortune on her purchases.
"It's alright, Jeff, really. I don't think the problem is something you can fix anyways," she said distractedly, waving a hand and staring off into the distance. He frowned slightly in confusion, walking over to stand in her line of sight as he bent over to peek at the underside of her car.
"Do you think it's a fuel line, or something?" he asked, grease accentuated bottom proudly on display. "There's no leaking…"
"No. What probably happened is I pissed off some vindictive deity and he sent goblins to sabotage my car with magic," she said, and Jeff laughed, pleased that she was making an effort to joke her way into a better mood, and decided to give up on forcing the grease angle. Apparently, the Danny Zuko approach was simply not going to work.
"Well, let me call you a tow truck, then. I know a guy who can be here in fifteen minutes, and won't charge a dime," he offered, claiming the free door beside her as a leaning post. She smiled in a 'thanks,-but-I-couldn't-ask-that' manner, and started voicing an objection, to which he held up a non-negotiable hand.
"Ah, I insist. It's no trouble, and it gives me an excuse to hang out with a gorgeous girl, which is an opportunity I'd never pass up," he said with a charming grin, and promptly dialed the tow truck before she could reply. She sighed and gave him a grateful smile as he relayed the necessary information and concluded his call.
"All set. He should be here soon," he assured her, giving her a 'no-problem,-it's-my-pleasure' smile in return. "So, do you mind my asking why you have a party store stashed in your car?"
Sarah smiled guiltily and glanced at the masses of bags crammed into her backseat. "They're for the, ah, kids I watch. To keep them entertained," she explained. Jeff peered at the numerous acquisitions.
"They must have really tiny attention spans," he commented.
"You have no idea," she said wryly.
Frowning, he squinted at the front passenger seat. Was that…?
"Sarah, it that a pickle with hair?" he asked, trying very hard to think of a valid reason to have a furry pickle in your car, and failing.
Sarah laughed nervously, rubbing a hand over her face. "Uhm, yeah. It's a gift from one of the kids. He, ahm, keeps it as a pet," she explained. Jeff cast her a look.
"That's… sweet of him," he managed. Sarah laughed, chagrined.
"He hasn't been able to come over, lately, and he didn't want me to get lonely, so he lent me his pickle. It actually is sweet, in a health violation sort of way," she said.
"I see." Jeff tried not to make a 'wow,-that's-weird-and-kinda-gross' face.
He reminded himself that Sarah's quirky, youthful nature was what he was attracted to as he straightened and steeled himself to say the words, "Well, let's move all this to my car, then."
Sarah was worth the contamination. Of course. No question. The pickle was welcome because it was Sarah's pickle, fuzzy or no.
But it was nonetheless a challenge not to cringe as she set it on his dashboard.
***
Really, Jeff was a trooper. Not only had he put up with my cold demeanor adding to the frigid temperatures, but he had volunteered to help me transfer my obscene amount of goods not once, but twice, without complaint - the first instance being in the parking lot of the party store I had just supported for the next several months, and the second involving the unnecessary amount of stairs and unmaneuverable corners that led to my unusually goblin-free apartment.
And he hadn't once said anything about my obsession with that nasty pickle, despite the greasy mark it had left on his dashboard.
Most definitely, a trooper of the highest quality.
It took us three trips to get all of my bags upstairs to my apartment, and by the time we were standing, panting slightly, surveying the beginnings of a joke shop that made up my living room, I had already considered and dismissed asking him to stay for hot tea several times. It felt callous of me not to, but it would be worse to encourage his little crush, right…?
"You know, on the plus side of this, if I ever get tired of the publishing business, I now have experience as a mover," he said, breaking what was threatening to turn into an awkward silence as he leaned against my wall. He gave me a grin as I laughed, though to my own ears it sounded a little strained. I hoped he would assume it was stress over my Car-O'-Crap situation.
I again weighed the merits of inviting him to stay a while - he was already in my apartment, how much damage could it do? - when he checked his watch in the universal 'gotta run' gesture. I really hoped I didn't actually sag in relief as I realized I wouldn't have to boot him out.
"Listen, I've got an appointment I have to get to," he started, and I smiled, shaking my head.
"Don't worry about it, go ahead. Thanks so much for your help," I said, and made a 'shooing' motion with my hands. He smiled and grabbed one of my flopping wrists, tugging gently before I withdrew.
"You're coming with me, Sarah," he told me, and I blinked.
"Is it a publishing appointment? It's not about that stupid segment they keep running, is it? Because if it is, I'm telling you right now, I am sick-"
"No, silly, you aren't coming to the meeting, and it isn't for an hour anyways." Jeff's eyes, already attractive in their own, un-dangerously matchy sort of way, suddenly grew hooded and hot, marinating themselves in a 'come hither' look that probably fluttered the hearts of every female in a two-mile radius.
"You're coming home with me," he said.
I blinked again.
"Oh…ahm… I, uh, I know my heating isn't functioning right, but, I'm okay here, I mean…" I floundered, feeling my cheeks brushing up on their molten lava impersonation. The portion of my brain tasked with getting me out of awkward situations was currently spewing lies a mile a minute, trying to generate a believable reason not to go to his house, and seemed perilously close to needing to run around in circles like a goblin.
Jeff laughed at me, and shook his head. "Oh, sorry, Sarah, but it was too easy," he said, grinning at my mortified glare. "What I meant was, you're driving me home, so I can get my other car and you can borrow the Challenger," he said, and twirled the keys around his finger.
I stared.
"Borrow the Challenger?" I repeated. A giddy little voice inside me started chanting YesYesYES! while waving a 'Jeff's 1' flag decorated with hearts and speedometers, but it was drowned out by the overwhelming protests of a Reality Check.
"Are you insane?! I can't do that!" I objected incredulously. I couldn't possibly accept this - not only would it put me in far too much debt to be comfortable with, the gesture carried an implied familiarity that I was trying to discourage.
"It sort of seems like I'm the one who should decide that, being that I own the car and all," he said, a teasing glint in his baby blues.
I rolled my eyes. "Quit being funny. It's not cute," I said sharply, crossing my arms. He smirked in a manner that said he knew perfectly well it was cute, and that he liked that I thought it was cute, and that he had every intention of continuing. I contemplated biting my tongue off, before it got me into any more trouble. "And I'm not borrowing your Challenger. What if I wrecked it?" I demanded, trying really hard not to be flattered at his askance look.
"I feel fairly certain you could handle an eighteen wheeler in a blizzard, Sarah. Besides, I've let you drive it before. You didn't object then," he pointed out. I opened and closed my mouth several times, though no justifiable arguments came to mind.
"Well, you were in the car, then," I managed lamely. Jeff smirked at me.
"If it'll make you feel better, I can put a cardboard cutout of me with a terrified face in the passenger seat," he offered. I glared at him for a few moments, before deciding on a measured truth.
"I hardly know you. This isn't the sort of thing that people who hardly know each other do," I said finally. Jeff laughed exasperatedly.
"I'm not asking you to fool around in the back of my car, Sarah! I'm offering to let you use it until you can find an alternate means of transportation," he said, and recaptured my hand, dropping the keys in my palm and folding my fingers over them. "Now accept my generosity graciously and drive me to my house, before I'm late for the meeting," he chided.
The giddy little voice waved it's flag hopefully as my resistance wavered and cracked, and after a moment of futile waffling, I gave in and let it bound about in unabashed elation.
Rolling my eyes, I tucked the keys in my pocket and grabbed my coat back up. "Fine, if you're gonna twist my arm about it, I'll drive your damn car. But when it comes back to you with double the mileage, I expect no complaints," I warned. Jeff grinned, hooking his thumbs in his jeans and looking thoroughly satisfied with himself.
And, suddenly, I noticed he was covered in grease.
Well, not covered, but certainly sporting an inordinate amount for the short time he'd been poking around in my useless car, at least. I couldn't help but notice it looked good on him, though - highlighting his strong features and bright eyes, making his chest look delightfully touchable and lending his legs the same characteristic, and - was that a smear on his butt, too?
The suave business man had been replaced by a rugged, masculine mechanic who looked like he could handle a woman and a muscle car with equal skill, and knew it.
He looked - well, hot.
A sudden image of me behind the wheel of the Challenger, with one hand on the wheel and one hand on Jeff's thigh, implanted itself in my brain and had me grinning like an idiot. Before I could reign it in, the thigh shifted to belong not to the man in my apartment, but to the slender, leonine Goblin King, and I grinned wider.
I could just imagine how Jareth would react to a six-cylinder blazing full throttle along an empty stretch of blacktop.
My fingertips tingled in anticipation, and quite abruptly, I couldn't wait to get Jeff home.
***
Jeff couldn't hide a wry smile as Sarah finally noticed his strategic grime placement. It seemed cars were the way to her heart, after all; he felt reasonably sure that, despite her objections, she was actually thrilled at the idea of borrowing his Challenger, if the gleeful shine in her smile was any indication. He knew she'd probably end up doing more joy-riding in it than actually using it for necessities, but he didn't mind; what good was a car like his, if it wasn't being enjoyed? And recalling Sarah's hungry, bright-lit eyes as his powerful machine roared in her hands down the highway, he was fairly certain she would most definitely be enjoying herself.
And she'd be thinking of him while she did, which was worth just about anything she did to the car.
She was practically skipping by the time they reached his vehicle, and he smiled affectionately at her.
"You do realize that if you keep up this kid-on-Christmas-morning thing, I'm going to hire a cop to follow you around and amiably remind you of the speed limit every few minutes," he teased.
Sarah scoffed. "Speed limits are for people who don't know how to handle their vehicles," she informed him as she slid into the driver's seat. Jeff chuckled.
"That's a pretty unstable argument, sweetheart," he replied, settling in the passenger seat and immediately securing his seatbelt a little tighter than usual. He glanced at Sarah, noting her uncomfortable face at his casual endearment, and sighed inwardly. Apparently, sacrificing his car to her speed-demon tendencies hadn't bought him as much favor as he'd planned. "Though, I'd gladly pay off the ticket to see you sell that to a cop," he said, trying to recapture her easy confidence.
Sarah gave a forced little laugh. "You're assuming they'd catch me at all. You're logic is clearly flawed, Jeff," she replied, and he didn't miss the stiff way she said his name - friends, but that's all.
Jeff smiled wryly. "I get the feeling you're practically impossible to catch," he muttered.
Sarah laughed once. "Just about," she agreed. You're efforts are futile, sucker.
He tried not to pout. This was so unfair.
***
I felt a little bad for Jeff as we pulled up to his house; it was blatantly obvious he was trying to flirt with me, and it was equally blatant that I was feigning ignorance. The poor guy couldn't help it that he wasn't my type.
I smiled apologetically at him as he unbuckled himself. "Thanks again, Jeff. I really appreciate this," I said sincerely. Jeff grinned slyly at me.
"Don't be too grateful, now; I don't do favors for free," he said, his tone virtually dripping with sensuality, and my stomach suddenly did a Titanic impersonation.
"O-oh?" I stumbled, my fingers twitching to throw the car in park and run like the wind if he suggested…
"You see, I had a dinner reservation with a client of mine, who unfortunately rescheduled on me. I could cancel it, but it would ruin my reputation there, so I still plan to go - and I find myself in need of a date," he clarified. My stomach regained a little buoyancy - that was better than what I'd been thinking, at least - but I still shifted uncomfortably.
"Oh, uhm, well, I…" Think, Sarah, think!
Jeff practically deflated at my bumbling excuses, and my insides twitched guiltily. Here the guy was letting me borrow his classic muscle car, which he and his deceased grandfather had rebuilt together and was probably worth more than my car and apartment combined, not to mention the sentimental value - and was only asking for dinner in return.
Was I really that ungrateful?
"Uhm, what day? I'll clear my schedule," I said finally, and was proud of myself for not sounding the least bit pressured.
"Wednesday," he replied, sounding distinctly relieved.
"Done," I said, and held out a hand, smiling. He grinned back and shook it.
"Done," he agreed, and with a wink, climbed out of his car and strutted (really, there was no other word) into his house.
I sat for a moment longer as I tried to reign in the desire to immediately call Jareth and whip him around every twisty back road I could find, and told myself that I wasn't a misleading wretch with as much conviction as a misleading wretch could manage.
Sadly, it wasn't much.
Putting the car (I'm driving a Challenger, I'm driving a Challenger!) in gear, I started on a circuitous route back to my apartment, and firmly told myself I was being stupid. After all, he was doing this because it was nice and gentlemanly. Jeff was a nice, gentlemanly guy. Therefore, it made perfect sense for him to act as such.
After all, he had never really made a pass at me, had he? Sure, he had given me flowers, and taken me to coffee, and lent me his car, and asked me to dinner, but that didn't really mean anything, right?
I sighed heavily.
"Shit."
***
It took me the better part of an hour to finally make it home, and by the time I managed to pry myself from behind the wheel, I had fairly well cheered myself up and was firmly convinced that all of the circumstantial evidence proving that Jeff had a thing for me, and therefore needed to be discouraged, was purely coincidence, and I was being silly.
And now that I was convinced, I was not going to think about it until Wednesday, and I damn well was going to enjoy my loaner car to the fullest extent.
After fixing myself an Adults Only mug of cocoa, I sat down on the living room floor with a map of the surrounding countryside, and proceeded to plot a course to take Jareth on.
His Sparkliness was in for a ride.
I wished it were warmer out, so we could take advantage of the convertible's soft top, but the frigid temperatures outside sort of discouraged letting the wind blow through your hair. I glanced out the window, wondering how severe the magical backlash would be if I had Jareth bring up a draft of warm air from Hawaii or something…
"Alas…" I sighed wistfully. Domino perked his head up from his position sprawled on the couch, quirking his head inquisitively hopeful manner.
"No, puppy. I said 'alas', not 'who wants some yummy food that is probably extremely unhealthy for your species'," I said. He chuffed disappointedly and laid his head back down on his paws, looking forlornly at the wall.
I rolled my eyes.
"Oh, stop, you ham. You just had pancakes and bacon this morning," I chided. Domino's eyes glazed dreamily, and he licked his chops in memory. I laughed and hauled myself up off the floor, rubbing his head as I walked by him to the bathroom, my bladder alerting me that I'd had one too many spiked hot cocoas, and consequences were imminent. As I closed the door, my eyes automatically went to the beautiful cut-glass bowl and the nearly gone lavender leaves, and I smiled in the dreamy manner Domino had when he thought about bacon. Those bath leaves were fabulous - I swore my skin had gotten noticeably softer in the past week, and I was fairly certain I was permanently lavender-scented now.
As a result of my mild inebriation, my mind wasn't quick enough to stomp out the absentminded sigh that slipped out, accompanied by the thought that I really wanted to see Jareth again.
And not just for a car ride.
Quickly, I shook my head clear and shoved those destructive thoughts on the back burners where they belonged. It was self-defense; if I thought too much about him, I'd wind up going mad, I was sure of it. Next thing I knew, I'd be strategically placing an enormous chair in the center of my living room, decorating with glitter, and using a minimum of three cans of hairspray per day.
When I returned to the living room, I found Domino peering happily under my coffee table, tail wagging a mile a minute, and my meticulously inspected map artfully accented with a fuzzy pickle.
I grinned widely as I heard a hushed giggle from the direction of my kitchen, followed by the distinct sound of my pantry door being opened.
My goblins were back.
***
Edgar Bruin was in a decidedly good mood. His Modern Hits in Opera CD had finally arrived, the shade of sand he needed, Magnificent Mauve, for the final touches on his sand portrait was in stock, and his upstairs neighbor had been silent all week.
Not once, in the past six days, had his porcelain kitten collection been rattled off the shelves, nor his Elvis clocks been banged from their perches, nor his strategically placed shell wind chimes tangled from forceful bouncing.
It was possible that the blizzard had prevented those noisy, horrible children from being dropped off at her apartment, but he was giving her the benefit of the doubt this one last time. Perhaps his recent talk with that young Williams woman had finally gotten through. Perhaps she had finally developed a respect for other people's desire for serenity, and would no longer force the chaos she routinely indulged in upon her fellow apartment dwellers. Perhaps she would finally mature, shed her childish ways and get a decent, legitimate job, rather than spouting that drivel she called children's literature.
Edgar winced as there was a sudden, wall-shaking crash from directly over his living room, followed by a series of thumps and screeches, and what could only be described as a battle cry. His porcelain kittens quaked on their wooden shelving.
Perhaps pigs would fly.
***
"Have at thee, you foul beasts! I'll never surrender!" I crowed, boasting my assumed victory despite the fact that I was beset by no less than four goblins, all armed with plastic swords and a week of pent-up energy.
"Get the Lady! Get the Lady!" cheered Dizz from the sidelines, where there were a dozen other battles being waged, and I took a brief moment to cast an arch look his way.
"Silence, infidel! You shall be dealt with accordingly after I conquer your peers," I informed him. He looked vaguely worried for a moment, before he was bowled over by a group of goblins who were using their swords more like baseball bats than bladed weapons, and promptly forgot all about needling me.
Darting forward in a quick thrust, I de-limbed one of my opponents, and as he stumbled around in melodramatic agony, I sliced off his head and laughed in victory as he plopped to the floor and pouted, grinning fearsomely at the three remainders. They cast anxious looks between each other.
"Thinking we run?" Tooka asked his comrades, who contemplated the values of tucking tail for a moment, before Dizz re-entered the fight, leading the band of Babe Ruth's who had trampled him, and sounding a battle cry.
"Ahhhhyeahh!" They screeched simultaneously, and rushed me as I scrabbled up onto the couch for a better vantage point.
"Hey! Seven against one! That's so not fair!" I objected, forced to hop as one of my opponents lobbed off my foot.
A decidedly squeaky Tarzan yell erupted from behind me, and I looked back to tell my new attacker that rear assaults were most unsportsmanlike, when Ziggy scrabbled up beside me and waved his sword defiantly.
"I will help the Lady Sarah!" he declared, and promptly began swinging energetically at anything within arm's reach, and actually doing impressive damage.
The tide of the battle now turned, my morale recovered and, together with my little defender, the onslaught of unfairly numbered goblins withered until Ziggy and I stood victorious. We stood one-legged, one-armed, and badly unbalanced, but victorious nonetheless. I surveyed my conquered opponents with a contented smile.
"Who wants cocoa?"
AN: I am ashamed. There is no excuse. Well, there is, but it's lame, and I'd rather just not mention it, to be honest. Chapter nine is nearly done, (literally only a paragraph or two left) and should be posted by next week. Promise. And I love you all. Very much. :D
MayFeiScarlette: Sorry for the extended wait, darling, and thank you for your patience. :D
freak-4-God: Oh, stop, am I blushing? :) Thank you, darling!
lindzxcheshire: You're review made me smile, haha. :) (And really, the crop is such a give-away, isn't it?)
Her Royal Goddess : Hehe, sorry darling, but I'm afraid all the 'lemony goodness' is being withheld until a later date. ;)
MusicLuverJMarie17: Haha! Glad you enjoyed, darling.
Cybernetic Mango: Oh! I'm so jealous! You have no idea how long I've wanted to be a cyborg... (Really, though, is all well, darling?)
Camcalli: XD Sorry for making you wait for this one, too! (And it is of course open to interpretation, but I was leaning toward terrified longing, myself, I think. :D) And the long awaited confrontation will be the chapter after next, if all goes accordingly!
Lil'VanHelsing: Oh, goodness. Please don't die. I'm terrible at CPR. Especially while distracted by a tutu-clad Jareth. (Is that all he's wearing? :D)
Tsohg: Haha, it was a bit of a shock, hmm? And thank you oodles, darling!
J Luc Pitard: Haha! I'm sure she appreciates your stance. :)
DanceQueen105: Thank you, darling!
Princesspunkinpatch: Glad you enjoyed, m'dear! And apparently, I should have rushed, hehe.
TrashedXandXScattered: :D
Lov2Catnap: ;)
Insanityfairy: Hah! Manoff! I think this is the new official term, hehe!
Notwritten: Thank you darling, I shall. :)
GreenEyedGrimKitty: Indeed, Sarah is quite stalwart in the face of destruction. I probably wouldn't give myself thirty seconds.
Nanenna: Thank you, darling! :) I adore flattery, haha. And the Jareth-Domino parts are probably my favorite thing to write, haha! (Well, aside from gratuitous sexual tension, of course)