Barnaby scoffed at that sorry admission. “And p’rhaps the next one will scare thee all the way to death,” he said, heavy with irony. No, better not tempt fate; Robins would likely be too afraid of death to move on, and then he would have to put up with him being truly useless. (Except maybe as his very own floating, talking, punching-bag. Barnaby could unlive with that.)
In spite of that, Barnaby affixed a wide cherubic smile to his face, trying for lamb-like innocence just in case today was the day that Robins of the Spirit Division told a spirit no. “I have decided that I do desire an animal companion. A spirit familiar, if you will. It has been far too long since I last had one -” (he had been possessed of a stolen ghost-horse, at one time, some year before the fine locomotives came to be). He lifted his chin, his tone lofty. “Thus I require your services to source a fine specimen for me.”
In spite of that, Barnaby affixed a wide cherubic smile to his face, trying for lamb-like innocence just in case today was the day that Robins of the Spirit Division told a spirit no. “I have decided that I do desire an animal companion. A spirit familiar, if you will. It has been far too long since I last had one -” (he had been possessed of a stolen ghost-horse, at one time, some year before the fine locomotives came to be). He lifted his chin, his tone lofty. “Thus I require your services to source a fine specimen for me.”
