As he fell, Ford recalled the trials of Gulliver during his interactions with the Lilliputians. He had nothing against garden gnomes in general; Tycho had a proper infestation of them in his front yard that he had never shown any inclination to do anything about, and while they apparently menaced their fair share of unsuspecting visitors they had always left his ankles alone. The gnomes at Tycho's house generally kept to themselves, though. They lurked by the garden wall and dozed under the canopy of flower bushes. These ones were bold, out in the middle of a path, and there were quite a few of them — and they had reason to dislike him, since he'd just tripped over one of their number.

"Sorry, sorry," Ford said quickly, as he scrambled away. He was polite for the moment, but also poised to kick the gnome in question if it lurched for him — he would not sacrifice a pair of socks, or worse, the hem of his trousers, for the sake of being kind to a creature. Fortunately the gnome seemed more inclined to climb to its feet and dash away than to bite him. Unfortunately, someone had just rounded the corner and the gnome was now barrelling straight for their feet. "Oh — watch out," he called, preliminarily flinching.

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