Outside, in my favourite spot near the wellhead, the three of them stood facing me.
"Right," golden boy began, his hand briefly patting the back of his head in a nervous gesture. "How do I put this…? Well, you see, dear sister, for your safety…and ours…we need you to do something that might seem a little weird. But it's honestly not that hard and won't take much time. In this situation, time is of the—"
Stiff-face abruptly pushed golden boy aside—quite literally—and a piece of paper materialized in his hand, seemingly from thin air. That's the kind of wonder that briefly satiates my craving for fantastical experiences and metaphysical happenings, I thought. I noticed he wore no rings on his fingers, nor any visible accessories that could have harboured a storage space.
