Webby sat on one end of the table, staring awkwardly at the other side.
Lena sat on the other side, looking out the window with a pained expression.
Beside her sat Violet, calmly cutting apart a hamburger with a knife and fork.
They had met up at Betty's Burgers, a restaurant that they had discovered a few years ago and taken a liking to. At the moment, only Violet had ordered something and was eating it slowly and coolly, as if oblivious to the silent tension between the other two.
Webby wasn't. She'd already begun regretting not asking someone to come with her. A significant part of her wanted to stand up and bolt, flee from this place and just go home. The other part just wanted to be able to talk to her again, to hang out without a wall between them.
Unbidden, the memory of the kiss arose to the forefront of Webby's mind. That stupid kiss.
"…Um…" Lena broke the silence, forcing herself to look across the table. "It's, uh… it's been a while."
"…Yeah." Webby replied quietly.
Lena seemed to struggle for a moment, her usual confidence and charisma nowhere to be seen. With a forced smile, she asked, "You, uh… you want something to eat? My treat?"
"No thanks. I'm not hungry."
"Yeah, me neither." Lena mumbled, looking away again.
Another moment of silence. Violet put down her cutlery for a moment, giving her adopted sister a pointed look.
"…Okay." Lena sighed, turning back. "We gotta talk about this. We've been avoiding each other for two weeks, we gotta-"
"It's okay." Webby interrupted her. "I know, I'm… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-"
"No, you don't have to apologise for anything." Lena told her. "You weren't-"
"I was being stupid. It was a stupid thing to do. I'm sorry."
"No, you weren't." Lena said sternly. "You're anything but stupid, Webby. You just… didn't know."
They were quiet for a moment longer. Lena, taking a deep breath, started to explain. "So… I've known that you had… feelings for me since the beginning. When you started stammering around me in ninth grade."
"…Okay." Webby said simply.
"And… I didn't… I mean, I should've said something, there and then. I should've just told you, stopped you from getting your hopes up. If I did… you wouldn't have done what you did in Paris."
Webby remembered again at the mention of it. The tenderness that Webby had brushed her beak against Lena's, immediately countered by the force by which Lena had pulled away. Something in her chest tightened.
"…And the reason that I didn't was because… I… I was scared of how you'd react." Lena forced herself to say. "You're… you're the first friend I ever made, I… I thought…" She scoffed at herself. "I dunno what I thought. That you'd hate me, or something stupid like that. So… I just kinda kept quiet… told myself that you'd grow out of it and forget about it… and until you invited me to Paris, I thought that you had, or… almost had."
Grow out of it? How could she grow out of something like this? Just forget how she felt? How her heart pounded when she was close to her? She couldn't just forget that. Even now, even as despair was choking her throat, she felt it. The affection she'd tried to hide for so long.
"…Did you know why I invited you?" Webby asked slowly, trying not to sound accusatory. "Did you know what I… wanted to tell you?"
"…I had a feeling." Lena admitted.
"…And you came anyway?"
"I…" Lena sighed, shrugging. "I just… fuckin' panicked. I didn't want to say no, 'cause you'd only just gotten back into adventuring and I didn't want to… I didn't want to hurt your feelings."
Lena looked away again, adding in a small voice, "…You're the first friend I ever made. I… I was scared of losing that."
Webby stared at her friend, understanding a little better. Softly, she said, "…Lena, I… I wouldn't have hated you. I don't hate you now."
"…I know." Lena replied. "I know that. I should've told you the moment I realised what was happening."
You should have. I wouldn't have kissed you if I'd known. I wouldn't have humiliated myself if I'd known.
Webby kept quiet. She didn't dare give a voice to her thoughts.
"…So… where do we go from here?" Lena asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Like… how do we get past this?" Lena clarified. "We've talked about it, but… how do you want to get back to normal?"
Webby didn't want to go back to normal. She wanted to be able to hold Lena's hand, to fall asleep leaning on her shoulder, to be able to reach up, take both sides of her face and…
Webby pushed those thoughts out of her head. Slowly, she responded, "…I… don't want this to get in the way of what we have. You're one of my oldest friends. It's… silly, to let a mistake get in the way of that."
"…So… do we…?"
"I think…" Webby decided. "I think, that… we just… keep being the same friends we've been the whole time."
"Right, just…"
"It didn't happen."
"Yeah, like, not even hiding it, it just didn't happen."
"We're still friends. Nothing's changed, everything's the same."
"Yeah, exactly. Everything's fine."
Another awkward silence stretched between them, interrupted only by the clinking of Violet's cutlery.
"…So… we're good?" Lena asked hesitantly.
"Yeah." Webby nodded, a bit too quickly. "Yeah, I… I think we're good."
"…You're sure?"
"Yeah."
"Okay…" Lena slowly let herself smile, albeit carefully. "Okay, good, that's… that's good. So… I guess we'll see each other…?" She hesitated, then said hastily, "I mean, I don't wanna look like I'm running away, but… like, do you wanna hang out a little longer, or…?"
"Yeah." Webby replied with a tired smile, nodding again. "I mean… we've talked about it, we've moved on… let's just hang out."
"Okay, yeah, awesome!" Lena declared, starting to stand up. "In that case, let's start by grabbing-"
Without looking, Violet swiftly thrusted her elbow out, jabbing Lena in the ribs before she got a chance to leave. Lena gasped and dropped back in the chair, rubbing her side in pain and glaring daggers at her sister. Webby blinked in confusion, looking between the two as her smile flickered away.
"…Okay." Lena muttered reluctantly. "…While I'm being honest… there's something else I haven't told you."
Webby stared at her.
"The girl that called me on the plane. Helen. She's… a bit more than a friend to me."
"…Like… a best friend?" Webby asked cautiously.
"…A bit more than that."
Webby looked down at the table, slowly blinking as she realised what Lena meant.
"…Oh." She said blankly.
There was a moment of tense silence.
"…How long have you been seeing her?" Webby asked.
"…We started dating last November. So…" Lena looked up at the ceiling as she answered, murmuring in surprise, "Shit, about five months now."
"…Five… five months?" Webby murmured, not looking up at her. "That's… a long time."
"Look, I know that this is a big thing to keep from you," Lena said quickly. "And I know that you hate it when people keep secrets from you, but I didn't know how you'd react, and the longer I-"
"No, it's fine." Webby interrupted her. "It's… I get it. It's fine."
"…So, we're cool?"
"…Yeah." Webby replied quietly, looking down at the table.
"…Okay. If you're sure." Lena replied, clearly not believing her. She stood up from the table and said, "I'm just gonna order a drink. I'll be back in a sec."
As Lena left, Webby suddenly asked, "Lena? What… what's she like?"
Lena stopped and turned around. "Helen? Uh… well, she's smart. Creative. She's an awesome artist, she's got a lot of, like, really 'out-there' ideas… she's really into Japanese stuff, and she's got this beautiful tattoo on her arm of, like, crashing waves and stuff… I think you'd like her."
"Yeah. She sounds nice." Webby said softly.
Lena gave her friend a wary smile, though Webby could see the anxiety in her eyes. Then, she turned around and made her way toward the counter, joining a line of people waiting to order. Webby watched her friend leave, not taking her eyes off of her.
After a moment, she slowly turned to face Violet, who was carving apart her burger as best as she could with her plastic utensils.
"…I'm sorry, Webbigail." Violet said quietly. "I know how much she means to you."
Webby stared back, her unhappy expression and mournful eyes turning into an angry glare, directed right at her.
"You knew." Webby said, her tone making it an accusation.
"…I did."
"And you didn't say anything."
"It wasn't my place to meddle with your relationship. And I didn't want to give Lena the easy way out. It was her relationship with you, so she had to be the one to tell her. I'm… sorry if I've unwittingly upset you, but I promise you that it is better this way."
"…Okay. Makes sense." Webby muttered, leaning back in her chair and going back to watching Lena.
Her hand clenched into a tight fist in her lap, almost unconsciously.
After an excruciatingly tense bus ride together, Chanda and Louie arrived in Cilantro, a suburb that lay at the foot of the northern cliffs, atop of which were the Rockerduck Estates. Unlike the wealthier neighbourhood that loomed above, Cilantro was run-down and clearly impoverished. Louie felt even more uneasy here than he was in the previous suburb, particularly because he knew that the Beagle Boys junkyard was just a couple of districts away, so he kept his hood up and tried not to look at anyone.
Chanda led him through the streets, past corner shops devoid of customers, past houses with faded and cracking paint, and past an old sports field filled with caravans, acting as makeshift homes for the families within. Louie slowed and stopped for a moment, seeing a trio of young ducks playing with a soccer ball outside one of these caravans, their mother watching them from a lawn chair.
When the woman looked over at Louie, he hastened his walk and looked away.
"Feeling uncomfortable, McDuck?" Chanda asked, looking over her shoulder at him.
"It's just 'Duck'." Louie muttered in reply. "And of course I am, you seeing this place? I feel like I'm going to get shanked or mugged any second."
Chanda didn't reply. She just gave him a cold glare before returning her attention to the path.
Eventually, the two of them arrived at a very old white house sitting in the middle of a field of overgrown grass. A tall chain-link fence surrounded the property, though a large gap had been made in the fence, rendering the barrier pointless. A large white sign hung on the fence, displaying a warning in large red font that read 'CONDEMNED'.
"Oh, yeah. This looks legit." Louie said sarcastically. "Who exactly are you taking me to again?"
Chanda let out a reluctant sigh. "Do you remember when you asked me where I'd gotten the medicine from before?"
"…Yeah?"
"This is where I got it from. The guy we want is in there."
She ducked down and crawled through the gap in the fence without waiting for Louie to reply. He didn't follow her at first, staring at her in horror, then looking around wildly for anyone who was watching them. Seeing no-one, he swore under his breath and followed her through the fence.
They waded through the grass towards the house, which looked less and less safe the closer Louie got to it. The windows were shattered, the wooden beams were eaten by rot, and it looked like the roof had fallen through in one part of the homestead. Louie briefly entertained the thought of cutting his losses and running, but the promise of getting the effigy back kept him moving forward.
"Keep an eye out for glass." Chanda warned him as they were halfway through. "People sometimes chuck bottles over here."
"Oh… fuck's sake." Louie growled, slowing down and trying to peer at the ground past the grass. "I think I get why Lena wears shoes now."
They arrived at the front door, covered in graffiti and scratch marks. As Chanda tried the door, which proved to be locked, Louie's gaze flicked upwards to notice something above the door frame that didn't fit with the rest of the scene – a black glass orb, in which he could see the lenses of a camera. The device blinked a small red light at him, and Louie knew that the person on the other end was watching.
He glared at the camera, forcing his nervousness down.
Crack!
Louie jumped at the sound. Chanda had rammed her shoulder against the door, wrenching it from the lock and causing it to swing inside, revealing a corridor of peeling wallpaper, loose floorboards, and cobwebs.
"Okay." Louie muttered anxiously. "Break down a drug dealer's front door. Great idea."
Chanda didn't answer him, marching into the abode with a fierce look on her face. She looked over her shoulder once, telling Louie, "Wait here. I'll bring him out."
"So some passer-by can notice me hanging outside a crack den? No thanks." Louie shot back, stepping in with her. "Besides, I'm at this guy's mercy either way. No point not coming in."
Chanda frowned, but didn't say anything. She turned back and proceeded deeper into the house, shouting out, "Hey! Where are you? You know why I'm here, stop hiding!"
Louie closed the door behind him as best he could, then turned and walked into a nearby room. It was abandoned, save for an ancient-looking diner table, and had one other entrance into a kitchen area. He looked around, scanning the ceiling for any more security cameras. Once he was certain that he wasn't being watched, he pulled out his phone and immediately scrolled through his contacts. Fuck this, he thought. If he was going to be at the mercy of someone dangerous, he would call someone equally dangerous.
He reached May's entry in his contacts. Just as he was about to call her, something on the dining table caught his attention. Something glimmering. His eyes glanced over to see what looked to be a yellow metal loop sitting on the table. Frowning, he slowly approached it, seeing that the band was made of gold and that a piece of it had broken off, leaving the loop incomplete.
He hesitated as he reached out to take it, which was nothing new. Since the incident in Mexico, even the sight of gold was enough to make him flinch. But this was a different kind of foreboding, he thought as he examined the loop. It was featureless with no engravings, and it was made of pure, 24-carat gold, just like…
You are home, friend present.
Louie's eyes widened. "Wait…"
"Brings back memories, doesn't it?"
Louie yelled in fright, spinning around and falling over. The gold band flew out of his hands as he fell, soaring through the air above him.
The hand that caught the band was that of a pudgy white duck, dressed in black shorts, a green polo and an open white blazer – the uniform of Beakston Grammar school. Though his outfit was different and he seemed trimmer than Louie remembered, there was no mistaking the oversized glasses and combed-over tuft of feathers of…
"Oh, God, no!" Louie gasped in horror.
"Hello, Llewellyn." Doofus Drake replies with a calm, unconcerned smile. "It's been a while."
"No!" Louie yelled, backing up into the table in a blind panic. "No, no, no! I've been leaving you alone, I haven't talked to you in years, what do you-!"
"Hey!"
Louie looked over towards the entrance to the room. Chanda was standing in the door, glaring directly at Doofus Drake.
"Where is it?" She demanded angrily.
Louie slowly turned back to stare at Doofus.
"Hmm…" Doofus hummed innocently. "To what do you refer to?"
"The statue thing, bhosdike!" Chanda growled stomping into the room. "You're the one who put me up to this, you're the only other person who could've known about it!"
"…What?" Louie said faintly.
"Well, now that you mention it, I have recently come into possession of a new toy that sounds like what you're talking about." Doofus drawled, walking away from Louie as he did. "Let me see if I can find it for you…"
He walked around the table and into another room, his pristine school uniform clashing violently with the decrepit surroundings. Louie shakily got back up on his feet, staring at Doofus as he disappeared through the doorframe, the urge to run for it stronger than ever.
Then, he whirled around to Chanda, snarling furiously, "How the hell do you know Doofus Drake?"
"…It's complicated." Chanda muttered, not meeting his gaze.
Louie spluttered feverishly, gesturing wildly in the direction that Doofus had disappeared to. "How do you get Doofus Drake complicated?" He demanded.
"We met through my… liaisons at her school." Doofus's voice floated through from the other room, taking their attention. "She bought my wares through them, and when they were sadly expelled, she decided to buy from me directly. Simple, really."
Louie stared at him for a moment, running his hands through his headfeathers. "…Oh my God, he's a drug dealer now." He whispered. He swung back around to Chanda. "Why would you buy drugs from Doofus Drake?"
"I didn't know!" Chanda protested angrily. "Even if I did, I didn't have a choice! You-!"
Whatever argument Chanda was going to shoot back at him was interrupted by Doofus re-entering the room, holding up a small rectangular object in his hand. "Here it is. Or the photo, anyway."
He put the picture on the table, letting Louie and Chanda get a good look at it. In the photo was a mass of bubble wrap, within which they could faintly see a blue statuette in the shape of a sarcophagus.
"…You fucker…" Chanda muttered, her hands gripping the edges of the table in fury. Louie just stared at the photo silently, yet to come to grips with the situation he'd found himself in.
"I am sorry, Chanda," Doofus said insincerely. "I know this was a bit earlier than I planned, but I simply couldn't have either of you absconding with something so valuable."
"I was doing the fucking job!" Chanda snapped at him. "I wasn't going to run with it, I was only getting ten percent!"
"Mm, you're annoyed. I see that. Here…"
He reached into his blazer, pulling out a thickly-packed envelope and tossing it towards her. Chanda caught it, fumbling a bit as she did. She stared at Doofus, then down at the package, then back to him.
"There you go. Nine-hundred-and-ten dollars." Doofus told her. "As we agreed. Feels much better, doesn't it? You can go now."
"But-"
"But nothing." Doofus interrupted her, sounding bored. "Job's done. If I have something else for you to do, I'll tell you."
Chanda was quiet. She didn't look at Doofus or at Louie. She just stared at the bottle in her hands.
Then, she shoved it into her pocket and turned away, walking out of the room. Louie watched her leave, dumbfounded by this turn of events.
"I apologise for this… unexpected meeting, Llewellyn." Doofus said, returning Louie's attention to him. "I would have just asked to talk, but I assumed you'd ignore the invitation… not unlike you did to my birthday invites."
Louie heard the front door open and close shut. He was back in a situation he'd sworn he'd never be in again – alone in a room with Doofus Drake.
"…You sent Chanda to work for me?" Louie said slowly. "So she could lure me here?"
"Correct." Doofus replied with a smile.
"Okay… why?" Louie asked, deciding to unpack that later. "'Cause after our last encounter, I had assumed that we were square."
"And we are. Well, for the most part. There's still one thing that you owe me."
"…And that is?"
Doofus smiled disconcertingly at him. "Why, the other half of my fortune, of course. You remember what you apologised for, don't you? The day of my eleventh birthday?"
Louie nodded cautiously. "…Yeah."
"I'll admit, at the time I was… upset." He said quietly, his composure slipping for a moment as his eye twitched. He began pacing around the table as he resumed, "…But eventually, I came to realise that my grandmother – unintentionally, mind – had stifled me by granting her fortune to me. The money to buy anything I fancied, whenever I wanted… it sucked the joy out of life. Ever since I lost the fortune, I've found joy in things that would have just bored me before! It was like I was seeing colour return to the world, after so long of everything being grey! Do you understand what I'm saying?"
He turned towards Louie, now standing on the opposite side of the table with his hand out towards him. Louie opened and closed his beak a couple of times, before admitting, "You'll have to repeat all that again, I was too distracted by how much more… verbose you are than I remember."
"I've had four years of private school tutoring." Doofus replied. "Another thing I wouldn't have experienced if it weren't for you. I've learned now that I have to build my fortune. Piece by piece, until I have earned what I lost. And you are going to help me do just that."
"…Okay. I'm… with you so far." Louie said slowly, still wary. "Though, if all you want is for me to help you make money, this feels like a very convoluted way to ask for it."
"I felt you would not have met with me willingly." Doofus said flatly.
"…I probably wouldn't have, no."
"Originally, I just wanted your help building my little… 'business venture' here. But I see now that will be a waste of your talents." Doofus walked forward and jabbed at the photo between them. "Your expertise lies in retrieving items like this, doesn't it."
Louie raised an eyebrow. "You… want me to get artifacts for you?"
"Indeed." Doofus replied with a satisfied smile. "Ones that are just as valuable as this one, obviously."
Louie rubbed the back of his head, frowning awkwardly. "Huh, I dunno, man. That thing was kinda hard to get… plus it was a one-time thing, so…"
"Oh, you'll figure out a way." Doofus replied, unfazed. "Besides, if you can't get something on your adventures, I'm sure your uncle wouldn't notice if one of his little treasures went… missing."
Yes, he would, Louie thought to himself. Feigning reluctance, he said, "Eh… I guess so… either way, if you want me to get stuff that's worth just as much as that thing," He pointed at the photo. "Then you'll need something more valuable to hold over my head."
"Hold over…? Ah. There's some confusion." Doofus shook his head, smiling. Pointing to the statue, he explained, "You're not getting this back. It's mine now."
"…Okay, well if that's the case, then you can get fucked." Louie shot back angrily. "I'm not sticking around for this. You don't get to steal my stuff and then demand my help!"
"Oh really?" Doofus asked with a nasty smile. "Well, how about this? I have plenty more associates outside of Chanda, some of whom go to your school. Some of whom might figure out your locker combination and deposit a little… package for you."
"You-!"
"If you help me, then you can continue with your life as normally as ever. All it'll cost you is a single, little treasure each month, procured any way you see fit. Don't…" Doofus's face turned menacing. "…And you'll have to explain how a pound of cannabis magically appeared inside your locker."
Louie leant over the table, staring at the photo before him. He didn't say anything. He just glowered at the face carved onto the statuette, which looked back impassively behind a barrier of glossy photo paper.
"So, old friend. What's your choice?" Doofus asked.
"…It doesn't seem like I have one, bud." Louie replied through gritted teeth.
"Ah, good. You're already learning." Doofus extended his hand out with a smile. "Welcome to Drake Acquisitions."
"I understand your trepidations, but a public statement might be what we need to put out this fire."
The limousine bounced over a bump in the road. Scrooge ignored the momentary jostling, head buried behind a newspaper, as he replied grimly, "Or it could just add more fuel to it. I still say we keep our mouths shut until things quieten down a bit."
The spotted face of Mr Gnollic glared at Scrooge coldly from the limo's video monitor. "Again, our PR team does not recommend that strategy. Complete silence from the company makes it look like we're apathetic to the situation in Paris – and by extension, you're made to look uncaring regarding the situation you created. You have to say something."
Scrooge lowered the newspaper heatedly, snapping ag Gnollic, "Uncaring? I'm payin' for the damages to the city, aren't I? How's that for uncaring?"
"Perhaps you could mention that in your press release tomorrow."
Scrooge groaned, massaging his temples. "Urgh. Gnollic, you know I'm not the picture of grace when I'm up against journalists, I'll be just as likely to make the situation worse. Where did all this hostility come from, anyhow? Between the beanstalk and the Shadow War, my adventures have done far worse to Duckburg than this."
"But not to Paris." Gnollic reminded him. His eyes narrowed as he said, "And in case you've forgotten, our business operations are not limited to Duckburg."
Scrooge leant forward, looking out the window as the scenery sped past. "…Fine. I'll do it." He agreed reluctantly.
"Finally." Gnollic muttered. "We'll schedule the release for tomorrow, ten A.M. You'll find the script in your email. Memorise your lines before then."
"Aye."
The monitor turned itself off.
Scrooge gripped his cane, twisting the head in his hands. He understood why he had to say something, but he wasn't looking forward to it. He hated being on camera, always had. He consistently made a damn fool out of himself whenever he was on television, and the media was far too happy to oblige. He couldn't see how a press conference could be anything but disastrous.
…But, Gnollic was right. He couldn't sit in silence, either.
You can't say anything. What if they find out about Glomgold?
He winced. Of course, his headache was choosing to flare now.
The limousine came to an abrupt halt, though Scrooge became accustomed to that a long time ago. The divider screen to the driver's seat lowered down, and Launchpad's friendly face leaned in to declare, "Back home safe and sound, Mr McD!"
"Thank you kindly, Launchpad." Scrooge replied, opening the door and stepping out. As he did, he asked, "Don't suppose you'd be able to pick the kids up as well, would yeh?"
"Sorry, no can do." Launchpad shook his head. "I've got an urgent… um… doctor's appointment in Saint Canard's. Involving doctors. And in no way shape or form involving Darkwing Duck."
"…Alright." Scrooge said with a shrug, exiting the vehicle.
He walked up to the front door of his manor, Launchpad speeding off in a cloud of dust as he did. He'd have to ask Bentina to help him prepare for tomorrow, something he was dreading just as much as the conference itself. He opened the door and stepped inside, looking around the spacious great hall of the mansion.
He slowed to a stop halfway through the room, an odd sensation crawling up his spine.
Something was wrong.
"…Beakley? Della?" He called out, walking up the stairs. "Donald?"
No response. He gripped his cane tightly as he ascended, keeping a sharp eye out for anything out of the ordinary.
Something's happened. You have to do something.
Scrooge rubbed his temples, hissing in pain, before continuing to ascend the stairs. "Hello?" He called out as he marched through the house, picking up pace now. "Anyone?"
As he explored the rooms, he passed through the dining room, the piles of maps, guides and books still present near the head. He gave it a glance as he walked past, then continued towards the kitchen.
Then he stopped.
And he backed up.
One of the books was missing.
The house has been compromised. Someone's been in here.
He started rifling through the pile, ignoring his headache and trying to see if anything else was missing. The book that was missing was the text on the Knights Templar and their alleged worship of the entity Baphomet, along with several research notes regarding their possession of a silver idol of said deity – the text on Donald and Daisy's adventure.
He found something as he was searching, hidden underneath a stack of books. Something that definitely wasn't there before. He pulled it out, seeing that it was a note, and he read it.
Thanks for figuring out where the Baphomet's Idol was for me, Scroogie! Meet you in Portugal! – Goldie
p.s. You need to get better locks. The ones you have were far too easy to pick.
"…Goldie?" Scrooge murmured in disbelief.
His temple erupted in intense pain. He clutched his head, dropping the note and his cane, as a wave of memories came flooding back.
Perfectly understandable. Just so long as I-
We're still getting that scroll, Scroogie. I could use-
He stumbled away from the table, looking around wildly. Was Goldie here? Why was she going after this idol? What happened to his family?
Aha! There it is! In the middle of that-
Should've known it would've been guarded! Keep your-!
The medicine. He needed to take the medicine. It felt like there was a dagger piercing through his head, his vision was turning pink, he had to take the medicine.
Don't lose your-!
Well, it's hardly my fault that-!
Aim for the joints! It's an automaton, it's-!
He knew what was happening. He couldn't let them see him like this. He fumbled around in his coat pockets, even as he was losing balance…
SCROOGE!
He collapsed.
