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I just stood there, regarding it sleepily.
Circle, bump, circle, bump. Circle, bump, bump, BUMP. And all right, that was enough!
Only it didn’t seem to think so, running off again and then stopping, its fat little tassels swinging impatiently, as if it wanted me to—
Oh.
I sighed deeply, because I didn’t want to follow it anywhere, but I also didn’t want it bumping my door all night. Did it have an off switch? I walked over to see, but before I could grab it, it took off, scampering down the hall like a mad thing.
Only to stop in front of a door and swing its tassels at me pointedly.
It was Augustine’s temporary studio, I realized as I approached.
There was a light on under the door, so someone was inside, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be disturbed. I wanted to thank him for the outfit, which had really come in handy, but that could wait for morning. Everything could wait for morning, I thought, as a huge yawn threatened to split my head in half.
BUMP!
The crazed little pouf was now throwing itself at the closed door, as if it could batter it down. I knew I should have asked for a warranty, I thought, right before the door opened and Augustine’s head poked out. “Goddamn it!” he said, catching sight of me, and slammed the door in my face.
BUMP! BUMP! BUMP!
The door was flung open again, and then just as quickly closed, except for enough space for an angry blue eye to glare at me. “It’s the middle of the night!”
“Tell me about it.”
“What do you want?”
“My bed.”
“Then go to bed!”
“Okay,” I agreed, and turned to do just that, but the pouf was in my way.
It was small but determined, and I was sleepy and unsteady. This time, it succeeded in knocking me down. And back into Augustine. And through the door, because I don’t think he’d expected a sudden assault of Pythia any more than I had. Given that he screeched and jumped back, stumbled into some clothing racks, and went down.
Leaving me looking up at—
“What the hell is that?” I asked, trying to get my eyes to focus on something that was upside down and freaky and way too close.
“No, no, no, get back!” Augustine was yelling from inside a tumbled mass of couture. “Don’t approach!”
“I didn’t,” I told him.
“I wasn’t talking to you!” he snarled, flailing around. Only to have the rack collapse onto his head.
That caused some more drama, but I barely noticed because I was looking at—
I didn’t know what I was looking at.
It was small, somewhat shriveled, and mostly bald. There were a few silky strands of long, white hair here and there, blowing in the draft from a vent. Most of them were sprouting out of a lumpy little head, but a few were coming from a small, wizened face. So I supposed I was looking at a male, but couldn’t really be sure.
The face wasn’t particularly prepossessing, with a cute little button nose but odd bumps under the skin, like it was thinking about growing warts but hadn’t made up its mind. And a mouth of mostly missing teeth, although the few that were left were white and shiny. But I barely noticed all that, because the eyes—the eyes were lovely, I thought, staring into huge, purplish orbs with golden striations radiating through them. They looked like twin stars set in a violet sky, like sunrise and sunset all in one, and were glowing so brightly out of the little face that I could barely see it anymore.
“Beautiful,” I murmured, because they were.
The tiny creature smiled gently at me.
And then he clocked me over the head with a broom handle, and the world went swimmy.
