Erik had managed to produce a pink bubble so large that it utterly eclipsed his vision. If he really tried, he thought he might get a couple more inches out of it, but then, when it popped, he’d be digging it out of his hair.
He paused, considering an action with an immediate, tangible consequence, to the best of his ability.
Then a stranger banged into him from the side. He drew a gasp and burst his bubble without meaning.
“Aw, man.” He gathered the near-flavourless fragments back into his mouth and had a look around.
People, lots of them, in all shapes and colours. Laughter. Voices. Storefronts, tents, carts and market stalls. Striped awnings. A sandy-coloured pavement with decorative brick inlays. Faint, mechanical music, either a band organ or a full-on carousel somewhere.
Above, the sky was thready blue and white, with people walking, skating and bicycling through the air. Off to the right, there was a veritable termite’s nest of neon skyscrapers, with more people whizzing around them.
“Oh, cool,” he said, aloud but inaudible.
He suspected he was already acquainted with the flying people, the skyscrapers, and the setting in general, but it was still cool.
They had a boat ride to Farsia — he was pretty sure he remembered a magic carpet, “Wheee!” — and this place was called a “souq.” Maggie said it was “basically a mercado.” When she got mostly blank faces in response to that, she tried, “A bazaar?” and added, “like the Night Market, but during the day!”
Maggie didn’t seem to be anywhere nearby, nor did any other displaced family members he might go to for a clue. He covered his eyes with a hand and tried looking that way.
He wasn’t very good at it, he didn’t think. The only other person he knew with brain tentacles was Seth, and Seth wasn’t good at it either. Seth’s Aunt Diane, Uncle Mordecai’s brief girlfriend, seemed to have been better at it than anyone ever, so Erik didn’t expect to meet that standard. Nevertheless, he didn’t feel very good at it. He felt like how Milo felt without glasses — impaired and staggering around squirting at everything to be sure. His family always stood out against the background of murky chaos like glowing streetlamps… but only if they were near enough and he didn’t get distracted.
A lot of people were noticing him briefly and having various, similar thoughts about his mismatched outfit of distressed frock coat and floral shorts. They thought he was a tourist. They thought his metal eye looked cool, or scary, or sad, and wondered whether it was a prosthetic or an augmentation or a costume or a toy. They thought he might be having some magic-related difficulty, but he seemed basically okay. More than a few of them, the ones who kept thinking about it for more than an instant, thought he was probably a Marselline tourist. But that was all. No recognition. No love or concern or low-grade anxiety about a green kid with a metal eye. Strangers, lots of them, and no family near enough for his blurred vision to discern.
Apparently, he had escaped again.
He had a handful of memories similar to this one that all seemed to be of a recent vintage, although not all of them were in the souq. He was engaged in something amusing, it ended for some reason, and he noticed he had followed his bliss away from his family. In every instance, the resolution was a scared, irritated person grabbing him and saying something like, “There you are!” accompanied by the instant touch-based assurance that this was someone he knew and loved, and they were more irritated than scared, so it was okay.
Hyacinth kept saying she wanted to tie a balloon to him, just a couple feet of extra height, maybe with a glowing arrow on it, to give them a chance. He thought that was a really cool idea; he would’ve liked a balloon. But there was an impassioned discussion and Maggie compared it to a leash for a dog, so he guessed they didn’t bother with a balloon.
He wondered what he’d been doing this time.
He covered his eyes again and ignored the occasional whispers of other people’s thoughts, trying to find some of his own.
He remembered a little yellow girl in a white dress. Her mother was examining a table full of folded scarves, but she was staring at him. She didn’t know what the deal with his eye was and she was scared of him. Her mother noticed her, tugged her back and told her to stop that. Then she felt even more scared, and unhappy.
So he ambled over with a careful smile, tipped his hat and bowed to her. He did not address her mother. He winked and said, “It’s okay. I know I look scary. But that’s just on the outside.” He offered her the flower from his lapel.
She accepted with a careful smile of her own and offered a paper-wrapped piece of pink bubble gum from her pocket in exchange.
“Aha.” He took his hand off his eyes and turned the gum over in his mouth. “Erik Weitz, Musician of Suspicion, cannot think and chew gum at the same time. But look at him go!”
He strode off, aiming for the shade of a green striped awning, and felt through his pockets for the gum wrapper, or another disposable piece of paper. He’d already chewed all the sugar out of it; he must’ve been wandering for quite some time…
He found a folded receipt for one XL T-shirt and one M custom airbrushed design.
He gasped, looked down, and pulled out his T-shirt to read it.
It was black, with small white printing. “AC,” a little lightning bolt slash, and “DC.”
He cackled and applauded, garnering several bemused smiles from passersby, but no negative attention.
Hyacinth had gone into the big, discount T-shirt tent with him, because Uncle Mordecai didn’t trust the rest of the family to stick together and be sensible without his constant supervision. Hyacinth, he assumed, could mind Erik for however long it took him to pick out a T-shirt David wouldn’t like.
Erik thought they’d been in there over an hour, he’d lost her at least once, and they had not been even slightly sensible. It was great. Hyacinth found a T-shirt for him — she knew his sense of humour — and he found a T-shirt for Hyacinth!
Technically, he found a T-shirt for David. That was the opposite of what he was looking for, he wanted to be his own person again, but he showed Hyacinth, because it was funny. A lot of the designs had bizarre images and dodgy Anglais, probably imported from somewhere willing to crank them out cheaply, for the sake of the discount. This one was dark purple, in his size, with Glitterslut emblazoned across the chest, all one word, in sparkling paint script that was raked backwards like the tail of a comet. Hyacinth had cackled, but warned him right away that, even if he wanted to be funny, if they bought that ridiculous thing, David would steal it and adore it.
So they didn’t buy that one. They spent a long time hunting around for a version of it in Hyacinth’s size, and when they couldn’t find one, they had one made, size medium, pale blue, not even a colour David liked. It was a real one-two punch, Hyacinth had explained, to Uncle Mordecai’s dismayed expression. Here was a simple, understated design with a guilt trip included, and here was something he would’ve killed to wear, being sarcastically displayed by his unglittery, unslutty apprentice. David wouldn’t just dislike it, he’d scream.
Uncle Mordecai understood, he got it, but he still wasn’t happy with it. Maggie was, though. She smirked and said, “So you want everyone to know you’ll work just as well if we plug you into the wall?”
“Yeah!”
They both laughed. That made him feel a lot better about it, about everything.
Anyway, Auntie Hyacinth said he was still a teenager and he ought to start dressing to piss people off, which he guessed was true. He’d never been fond of his uncle’s occasional attempts to style him.
And it was funny, anyway. It was so.
Then, after the T-shirts, they had theoretically unlimited money and a whole souq to explore! It wasn’t like any of them wanted to go back and sit around a hotel room all day — especially not Erik.
Well, heck. They had until the boat left at eleven AM tomorrow to mess around, and his family would surely find him eventually. He might as well enjoy his freedom while it lasted.
Of course, every moment not spent trapped by a god or staggering around a hotel room with DC-brain was freedom, family or no, but…
Okay. No. He guessed being surrounded by scared, tired people who were worried about him and upset all the time didn’t feel very free. It felt kinda lousy, actually.
And they didn’t like his hat for some reason.
There was a storefront window here, under the awning, with potted plants behind it. He shied away from his reflection, only for a moment. There were big paint words in that window and he was outside on a sunny day, it was fine.
Watching himself in the glass, he reached up and tipped the hat forward, accentuating the smashed bit in the middle. He liked it, and he was hoping to convince his family that it was a valid fashion choice from a normal Erik with a sense of humour instead of evidence of irreparable damage, but they weren’t on board with that yet. It made them sad, and they tried to hide that from him because they didn’t want to hurt him. He’d been hurt too much already. Still, the idea of “damage,” like his other T-shirt, and the hat seemed irrevocably intertwined.
His reflection said he was missing his coat flower, and he didn’t like that. There were flowers in buckets outside of the shop, marked down due to an ongoing spring festival, so he had a look at those.
He sort of lost track of what he was doing again. It was nice to be invited to examine all the pretty colours and scents and textures. It was nice to be outside with new people and new things — and nobody who knew him well enough to have any expectations. Well, they expected him to examine the flowers in the buckets and make a selection, and he was doing that, so he was fine! He was particularly impressed with a huge magenta blossom in a bucket marked “Gerberas.” He removed it carefully, keeping his fingers on the stem so as not to disturb the few bruised petals that were turning black.
His other hand went through his pockets and found nothing but a small, wrapped chocolate and the T-shirt receipt with the gum in it.
He frowned, then sighed and shook his head.
“No. Nope. I’m not the Highwayman. Damn.”
They did have money, he was sure of it. He had another deck of similar memories involving the violin, Prue, and a case overflowing with money. In more than one, he was out on the street, but he also recalled a palatial hotel lobby with gold wallpaper between the vaulted pillars — or it might have been blue sky, clouds and neon out there. Maybe both. He also recalled lots of smiles and applause. He liked all of these things, and he thought he would’ve had a lot more memories like that if he got to pick.
But he didn’t have the violin. It wasn’t just that they were worried he’d walk off and leave her somewhere — and he wouldn’t. Never! — they didn’t trust him wandering around loose with a huge wad of cash.
Or, indeed, any cash at all.
Even now — especially now, because he wanted to buy this flower! — that didn’t make any sense to him. It didn’t matter if they were taking more money than poor people could afford because, obviously, you could just give it back. You could get a vague idea of what they were thinking — well, you could if you were him — and decide whether they could use some money to help, and then just give them some. You could give them most of it, in fact. How much money could they possibly need? Hyacinth didn’t even have a mortgage or an electric bill! Smiles, applause, money, and helping the poor. Who wouldn’t like that?
“‘The police,’” he muttered, doubtfully. He was certain that was a direct quote, but not sure who said it. Maybe more than one person, because he didn’t believe them and they had to keep telling him.
A hand brushed his arm, he felt this was a stranger’s hand, and he turned with a gasp.
A dark, smiling face with greying hair spoke with a faint accent, “You look like you’re having fun over here.” She had a green striped apron with a set of gardening shears peeking out of the pocket, and a cute little logo which indicated she owned the shop or worked for it.
Erik smiled sheepishly, and a bit sickly. This didn’t have to be someone reacting to an Invisible swat from David, or any god at all, but it was certainly a possibility. She wanted him to have fun.
He brushed at his loud shorts and tipped back his hat. “I look like Anglais, huh?”
She nodded with a laugh. “Do you like that one?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged and offered it back. “They’re all really beautiful, but I forgot, I left my wallet at home. In, uh, Marsellia.”
“Oh.” She turned the boom sideways, frowning at the black petals on the bottom.
He put up both hands. “It was like that when…”
She smiled at him again and offered the flower back. “If you really do like it, you can have it. I think no one else will!” She trimmed the stem and tucked it into the band of his smashed hat for him.
Erik wandered off at random, unwillingly flowered, somewhat guilty, and pensive.
He thought… He thought, over lunch…
No, actually, now that he’d found another quiet place to stand in the shade, he thought it had been over an entire ice cream sundae that someone had given him for free. It had a churro in it, for some reason, and a sparkler. Very like the Night Market, in fact.
Hyacinth pulled him aside, and when he got a look at her, he had a sudden, wild thought that she was going to slap him in the face and tell him never to forget ice cream could kill him.
She didn’t quite do that, but it was close.
“Kid, I’m starting to suspect this is a little beyond the usual free stuff people like to give you. Have you seen David around since he upgraded our rooms? Is this him? Do you know?”
He shrugged. “I’m not sure about this, but a couple times. I’m positive he tripped that fire-eater guy and burned up the palm tree.” He’d laughed aloud, and David waved at him and smiled. He felt bad about that.
“Yeah,” Hyacinth said, rather guilty-looking and pensive herself. “You’ve put up with a lot from that guy and he’s been inside your body. You know he’s a trash fire, you’re not stupid.”
“Not that stupid,” he said, licking caramel sauce from the spoon.
She nodded. “You probably know more about him than I do, but you can’t know him the same. I don’t know what you know, but… I’ve seen this before, from him. I’ve seen him being precious and showering people with little gifts and attention. It doesn’t end well, do you know that?”
“I can extrapolate.”
She sighed. “Well, you don’t have to.” She leaned back and spun her hat forward to keep the sun out of her eyes. “He wants you to like him. He wants everyone to like him and he knows you don’t, and he doesn’t want you to leave him. I mean, not like a sociopath, he’s not jerking you around trying to use you, he needs you to love him. It’s just how he is. So this is what he does. He stalks you and pays attention and does things for you, anything you like or might like.”
He frowned at her. “Well, next time I see him, I’ll tell him to cut that shit out. That’s creepy.”
“I always thought so, but it won’t make any difference. He’ll just keep poking and prodding until he finds something else you like, and render himself indispensable.” She licked her fingers, leaned in and doused his sparkler. “Barnaby and I both saw him do it over and over, and it was creepy to both of us, so we were basically immune, and even then, he’d score some precious points off us every once in a while. He won’t quit.”
He tipped up his nose. “Neither will I.” He relit the sparkler with optical magic, which would accompany him for the duration of the sundae no matter what Hyacinth did.
She nodded. “Okay, but just in case you wind up following a line of treats until he traps you in his spare room… or whatever the equivalent is now, I need to tell you this. He won’t quit, but he can’t maintain it. He burns out. It doesn’t even have to be something you did. If he doesn’t come to his senses and push you away before it happens, one day, you will actually need something from him. I don’t mean just for convenience or fun, really need something. And you’ll go to him because he always gives you everything, but he won’t have anything. Not for you, not for anyone, not even for himself. He won’t pull himself together and do his best to help; he’ll turn around and bite you like a dying rattlesnake, not just for funsies, but like all he’s got left is venom and he’s trying to kill you.”
He looked pained, or upset. Something. He must have, because she stopped talking and put her hand on his. “You still with me, kid?”
“I…” He shook his head, then nodded. He nodded a lot more. “Yes, just…”
She didn’t see it like he saw it, and she’d feel terrible if he told her. He couldn’t tell her.
She didn’t like to compare David and Uncle Mordecai. A long time ago, when he was just a kid and still pretty sick, she’d fallen into treating his exhausted uncle like David, and that didn’t go well for anyone. She still felt bad about it.
He didn’t think Uncle Mordecai was anything like David either. He loved his uncle very much and never thought of him as a stupid, boring, manipulative little shit.
Except, the way Hyacinth said that made them sound like a couple of early hominids on display in the same case at the Natural History Museum. Yes, this one isn’t as traumatized, it’s somewhat less sophisticated than the later evolution, yet they do share a common bastard-like ancestor…
He knew who that ancestor was for both of them and David’s was definitely worse. He felt a dangerous sort of sympathy for the god who had adopted what must’ve seemed like a fun persona, as if “David” had picked up a permanent injury while attempting to pet some cute animals it didn’t understand. If he couldn’t set that aside and stay focused on real human beings, he was going to get in serious trouble.
David was a human being in a bad situation that he and the god only knew through memories. He knew Uncle Mordecai for real. He wasn’t scared because Hyacinth had just obliquely suggested that one day his uncle wouldn’t be there for him — he didn’t have to be scared of that because it had already happened. Repeatedly. His uncle had given him good advice on who to go to for help when it did. And, for Hyacinth, despite any superficial similarity, that didn’t compare to the sort of pain David could inflict, not even what he’d done to her. Erik almost never got bitten. Mordecai really cared about him!
Unknown hours later, Erik held up his hand and examined the friendly octopus tattooed under his medical warning label. Oh, yeah. He knew his uncle cared. He had a grabby thing in his head with very bad manners, and a lot of gods following him around who liked to help point out how hard his uncle had to work to keep from biting him sometimes. And every last little cruel thing he might’ve said, but didn’t.
He had wanted to tell her, not to be mean, just because he couldn’t make up a good lie. Auntie Hyacinth, David only ever bit anyone on purpose. You love me and take care of me all the time, even sometimes while my uncle is hurting me and I can’t say so because I know if he knew I knew, it might literally kill him. Didn’t you notice?
But he didn’t like having that thought in his brain, and he didn’t like knowing “David” might spring it out of there and leverage it to give him some kind of skeevy gift he didn’t want. Maybe a free therapist or something — or maybe David had already been trying to do that, with the madroom — he didn’t know.
Crawling on the inside, instead of saying anything aloud, he’d blinked, smiled and said, “Oh, hey, cool, ice cream.”
He would’ve liked to actually forget it, but since it had popped up again now, he guessed he was stuck with it.
“Erik Weitz,” he muttered, “Failure from Marsellia, kinda misses his memory-free battery-coma.” He pulled out his new T-shirt with a sigh. “Maybe I do wanna be plugged into the wall.”
He cringed. No. He didn’t want that. But he did want to set all these unpleasant complications aside and stop trying to get better all at once.
There was a wrapped chocolate in his coat pocket, and now he was sure he had put it there because he thought David might’ve gotten it for him to see if he liked it. He didn’t want to eat it or get rid of it.
He ate it, slowly at first, and wandered off again.
Nothing held his interest for long, but it didn’t need to. There was so much here to see and do, and most of it was for sale, or a free sample, so they wanted you to pick it up, get to know it, maybe even smell or taste it, and fall in love with it. This stall had all kinds of fabric to unroll and drape. This one had toys to play with. This one had books he couldn’t quite read, and pictures to admire. This one had open barrels of dry goods that invited curious hands. That one over there had kitchen appliances…
And this one right here had enough scented oil diffusers to gas an elephant to death. He took one whiff and strode past quickly, with no destination in mind, up a short flight of brick stairs crawling with vines, to another small area with folding tables, carts, and blankets of goods.
There was something sitting on a table that brought his distracted journey to a screeching halt. He smiled at it.
I like that very much, he thought. I want to have that. Can I buy it?
He felt through his pockets without looking and found no money, only a squishy piece of gum twisted into a slip of paper, and a crumpled foil wrapper. He let both fall to the ground, unnoticed.
The smile faded, though not much. No money. I can’t buy it.
Nevertheless, he found himself reaching out a hand. David might get it for him, right? If it looked like he wanted it. Like the flower, and the chocolate. David might…
He blinked, scowled and rattled his head. What? That jerk?
He frowned at the thing he wanted. He still wanted it, he just didn’t want David to get it for him.
He smiled and veered away. If I can’t buy it, I’ll find someone who can!
◆◆◆
Erik was approaching with a smile and a dazed expression. There were no obvious injuries, no police, and no patient attendant hoping to drag him (or the whole family) to the nearest madroom. This was Erik’s default condition when being collected from whatever fun thing he’d decided to do instead of prevent his loved ones from spiralling into a mass traumatic flashback. But, now — finally! — he was coming towards instead of veering off randomly like he was trying to lose them.
Mordecai huffed a visible sigh and slumped with relief. Okay! Look at that! If they left him alone long enough, he would eventually come back on his own! Like a cat!
Or, possibly, like a normal teenager with a desire for independence! Also good! In theory!
…And he didn’t even have the balloon anymore. That was a stupid idea. Erik had undoubtedly untied it himself, and given it to someone who looked like they needed a balloon, or just set it free to wander like he did. Erik wasn’t stupid, just… distractible.
Mordecai waved an obvious hand over his head and threaded his way through the crowd, to make sure Erik didn’t get distracted from coming back. As soon as he was near enough, he grabbed Erik by the hand and hooked an arm around his waist for good measure.
Erik smiled at him. “Hi.”
Mordecai was staring at the flower in his hat. That, plus the smile, and the raggedy black coat, struck him with a shiver of dismay — Oh, gods, he looks like Euterpe — followed by shame. Euterpe was a perfectly fine way for a person to be and if Ann, Milo, or Calliope ever caught him implying otherwise, they’d probably kill him. Calliope would need a weapon and an opportunity, but Ann and Milo could just drop him right on the spot.
But he didn’t want Erik to be some other loser burnout’s version of a perfectly fine way to be. To be perfectly honest, he wanted nothing but the very same Erik who had written a brilliant little song for them to play together and then vanished. He wanted to take that Erik home and pick up right where they left off — except as a slightly better guardian who wouldn’t lose him or see him come to harm ever again.
“I think I wanted to buy something,” said the Euterpe-like bag of broken Erik-shaped pieces whom he had instead.
“Huh?” Mordecai replied, hiding his impending emotional collapse as if he wanted to prevent a dog from noticing a crinkling candy wrapper. “What? Like a soda?”
A soda? thought Erik. The smile faded as he considered that. I wanted to buy a soda…? That seemed plausible, but he wasn’t sure. “Can’t remember,” he allowed, with somewhat less distress than usual. The smile made a sheepish reappearance. “Come back with me?”
“What?” Erik was holding his hand, and pulling him back towards the marketplace. “Yes! All right. I’d love to! Any time! Thank you, dear one.” Again, if Erik was willing to accept an escort, that was a positive sign. It would certainly make it a lot easier to get him home safely, and then they could reassemble him at their leisure.
One step at a time, Mordecai reminded himself, eyes closed, and feeling rather balloon-like himself. If you lose it, he’ll lose it. Slow down…
Or speed up to nearly a run to stick with him, if necessary. Whatever this was, Erik didn’t want anyone else to buy it before he got back!
◆◆◆
“It’s here,” Erik said dreamily. He liked even the place where it was. Then his eyes found it and his smile widened with genuine contentment. “Mm. It’s there. It’s nice.” It was shiny. He sort of wanted to say that, but his tongue wouldn’t work very well. He just wanted to look. Maybe someone else could talk if they wanted.
And there could be a list about… not going out of a room…
“What, the teapot?” said Mordecai. It was pink ceramic and resting on top of a white box. It had a bright, clear glaze.
Erik was also developing a glaze. His metal eye had drifted slightly askew, but it didn’t seem inclined to look at anything on its own. His grey one was glassy and dilated. Mordecai gave a start. He knew that look. He’d spent half an hour trying to snap Erik out of it when the General said “focus.” He thought he’d dealt with that trigger, at least partially, but nobody said anything this time!
“Teapot,” Erik managed softly. “Shiny…”
“Erik!” Mordecai clapped his hands near the boy’s head. “Wake up!”
Erik blinked at him. His grey eye cleared and his metal one righted itself. “Oh. Uncle. Hi. I wanted to buy something…” He looked for it. “Oh. There it is…” He smiled. He was going out again.
Mordecai let him this time. He waited a few moments before speaking again, gently, “Erik, does that make you feel focused?”
“Focused,” Erik replied. “Mm-hm.”
“Go ahead and look at it. You can look as much as you like, but the feeling is going away. It’s fading. You’re waking up. Let yourself wake up. It’s fading. Let it fade. A teapot doesn’t make you feel anything. It’s just a teapot.”
“Just…?” He blinked. Why was he looking at a teapot? He shook his head and rubbed his good eye. That was… strange. He felt better now. “Oh. It’s just a teapot.”
Mordecai backed away with his hands up, putting physical distance between Erik and an instant anxiety attack.
And Erik frowned, not just confused but pained. He’d caught some of it, but, Mordecai hoped, not all.
“No, dear one. Not your fault. That’s something John left in your head and I’m glad it popped up when I was here to help you with it.” He blew out a sigh and smiled. “It’s okay. It’s… That’s…”
That’s why I need you to stop wandering away like that! Erik thought, not of his own volition. I know you don’t care about hurting you, but can’t you please care about hurting me? I thought I lost you forever! Can’t you…
“I… I know it’s important to have… have time to yourself. After all you’ve been through. And it’s hard to slow down and think about things, but please try. That… That could’ve been really dangerous for you.” Mordecai nodded, encouragingly. “You know? Yeah?” He winced. “It-it doesn’t have to be me…”
…I know I hurt you…
“But… Stick with Maggie, or someone. Can you remember that?” He touched a hand over his mouth. No. Erik didn’t like people prodding him to remember. That was too far. “Sorry. I just…”
“I can remember,” Erik said tightly. His uncle couldn’t even give him two seconds to be properly pissed off about something. Damn it! He looked down and away, rubbing absently at the edge of his patch. “I just don’t always think it’s important.”
…And sometimes I can’t stand you, he thought. ANY of you. His uncle couldn’t hear that… But he guessed his uncle knew anyway.
“This is super important,” Mordecai told him. “If you start to feel focused just wandering around, you have to re… you need to come get me so I can help you stop.”
Erik planted a hand on his hip. “What about when you have a quarter?”
Mordecai shook his head, right away. “No. I am not the boss of you and I have quarters all the damn time. Not just any quarter, and not just anything shiny. I need to be trying to help you and you need to be okay with it and let me. Right?”
Erik allowed another smile, a small, self-conscious one. He took the hand off his hip and touched it to the back of his neck. “Yeah. I get it. I might get it better with a quarter, but it can wait. Can we get a soda? I think I wanted to buy a soda.”
Mordecai pointed at him. “I think maybe you want that because I said it right after you were looking at the shiny thing, but it’s okay.” He smiled too. “Let’s go get a soda.”
They didn’t have to buy any soda. The guy with the falafel stand gave them two, no charge.
They were drinking and talking when Hyacinth came up behind them and swatted Mordecai on the back of the head. “There you are! Couldn’t you take a minute and tell the rest of us to stop having heart attacks?”
Mordecai smiled with mock sweetness. “No. No. Not really.”
Erik snickered. “Yeah. No. Sorry.”
“What the hell happened to your balloon?” she demanded.
Erik blinked and set down the empty bottle. “I’d like a balloon. Could Maggie fix it so it lights up? Do they have any purple ones?”
