DIMENTIO P.O.V.

"RAVEN!" I roared across the hall. "COME HERE!"

The sash-wearing girl zips to my side in about point-five seconds. That estimate obviously ersatz.

"Like a loyal, yet annoying, slobbering dog, you fly to my side," I sneered.

Raven shrugged. "Meh. I'd rather be the slobbering dog rather than the creepy jester."

How dare she!

I drew myself up to my full height. "The sheer cheek of it! How dare you call me... call me..."

I struggled with the words, I admit it. Raven stared at me, arms folded, head cocked, eyebrow raised. Finally, the words burst out of my mouth.

"How dare you call me the 'retsej ypeerc'!"

Raven burst out laughing, rolling on the floor in her mirth. I personally didn't see what was so funny.

"The what-now?" she snorted in between shouts of laughter.

"It's 'creepy jester' backwards," I snapped, feeling my face begin to warm.

"Uh-huh," snickered Raven, getting to her feet. "Well, if you're trying to be a clown, you're doing an awesome job. Now, excuse me..."

And before I even had time to say "GET BACK HERE!", she had ran off.

"Honestly!" I huffed, as I spun around and hovered down the corridor. "She thinks that I'm a clown, hm? A ridiculous, red-nose-wearing, bumbling fool?"

Ever since that... that pest... entered the halls of this castle, I have felt my smooth tongue slipping more often than not. Only yesterday I let myself call Mimi - the incopetent brat - a "helpful girl", just because she had assisted - no, got in the way of - me trying to reach the cookie jar. What I was doing with the cookie jar, I have no idea!

As I hovered, deep in thought, I bumped into Mr. L, who was consulting some mundane blueprint or other about that pathetic pile of bolts that he calls "Brobot". I smirked inwardly. Even in my current state of... well, anyway, L was easily messed with.

"Why, hello, Green Thunder," I chirped. "Fancy a game?"

"If the game is called 'Dimentio Goes Away', then sure," muttered the masked man.

"Ah hah hah! A little snappish today, aren't we, hm?"

"That's what you always say."

"And it's true. Snappier day by day."

There was a grunt.

"Now, I've come to talk to you about a certain... Raven Featherclaw."

If he had been drinking something, he most certainly would have spluttered over it. That was surely what he did at that moment, because it took him a while to regain the ability of speech.

"Whaddaya mean, Raven Featherclaw?" he snapped.

"Well, what is that dreamy, faraway look you get every time you look at her?" I asked lightly.

"YOU LITTLE - !"

"Gentlemen."

Mr. L whirled around to see Nastasia, her eyes cold behind her glasses. His attitude changed faster than a lightbulb blowing.

"Nasty Nassy! What a surprise..."

As he spoke, I realised that Nastasia stiffened with anger. Deciding to drive the conversation out of these dangerous waters, I intervened, changing tack immediately.

"Do you know where Raven is, Ms. Axle?"

"Uh, no..." replied Nastasia, frowning. "Why do you - "

"She's on the fourth floor, inspecting the male toilets, and wondering how best to break them down," said L hastily.

"WHAT?" roared Nastasia. "SHE'S GONNA PAY!"

She turned around and teleported to the fourth floor. We could hear her yelling three floors above our heads. Raven had evidently been passing the toilets when Nastasia oh-so-kindly teleported.

"Now why did you interject?" I cooed to L.

The masked man shrugged. "I owe her that."

"Why? Did she poke fun at your brooch, too?"

"I don't wear a damn brooch."

"Ah. So you don't..."