(Untitled)

[deserved_it]

Hey, candy!

There's a pop, as might be made by someone going from teenage-boy-sized to small-dog-sized.

Well, small-dog-sized. Small-dragon-shaped, though, wings, claws, and all.

There's a surprised SQUAWK, and then an outraged one as Eustace gets a look at the note inside the candy wrapper, accompanied by a puff of flame and smoke.

Comments

[kitchen_maid]

Amy comes downstairs, humming a bit to herself, and stops up short.

"Oh, no," she says. "Absolutely not. I am not getting married."

[kitchen_maid]

And it clicks. It's something about the stare, really.

"Eustace?" she says. "Good heavens. What happened?"

[deserved_it]

He writes:

SOMOEN PLAYINC JOKSE

[kitchen_maid]

Good Lord. As a dragon, Eustace is even a worse speller than she is.

Amy looks again at the candy wrapper. "Well, it doesn't sound like it's permanent. Though that hardly excuses it."

She looks around the bar to see if she can spot anyone she knows who might know how to reverse the effect, and sees no one.

"Is there anything I can do?"

[deserved_it]

It's all the fault of the dragonly muscles. Really.

He shrugs, which involves a great deal of weing-flapping, and writes:

TELL CASPIN OR SOMEONE? I DONT WANT THE TO WORYR.

[kitchen_maid]

"Right," says Amy. "That I can do, I think. If I may," she adds, reaching for the pencil, and then she writes:

Dear Caspian (or anyone else who might be worried),

Eustace appears to have somehow gotten himself turned into a dragon (again). It doesn't look like the change is permi perma for good, just until the 2nd of April. He doesn't want you to worry.

Amy

She holds the note out for Eustace's inspection.

[deserved_it]

He nods, resigned.

He is NEVER hearing the end of this. He's certain.

[kitchen_maid]

Amy rereads the note and nods.

"I'll leave it with Bar," she says. "Do you need anything else? Tea?"

Do dragons drink tea?

[deserved_it]

He shakes his head, and curls up on the table, catlike.

A depressed dragon is a pitiful thing.

[kitchen_maid]

It really and truly is.

Amy sits down and carefully pats his shoulder.

"You know, we don't have to tell Caspian about this," she says. "We could just say that you're . . . not feeling quite yourself and you've retired for evening and shouldn't be disturbed until tomorrow."

It's true. Enough.

[deserved_it]

He perks. Now there's an idea.

[kitchen_maid]

"Would that be better?" she asks.

[deserved_it]

Vigorous nodding.

Then, somewhat doubtfully, he glances over at the House of Arch painting.

[kitchen_maid]

"What?" asks Amy, following his glance at the painting. "Is that a problem?"

[deserved_it]

Another dragon shrug. He's not sure if the paintings will recognize him like this.

[kitchen_maid]

"You know, Eustace, it's very hard to figure out what a particular shrug is supposed to mean, or even if a particular gesture is supposed to be a shrug," says Amy, with a bit of an eyebrow arch. "I am trying to help, here."

She sighs. "All right . . . you've got questions about the painting. So aside from the general, why on earth are the dogs playing card games, which I admit I frequently wonder but can't see why you'd be worried about now, that could be . . . the painting might not know you're Eustace?" It's a guess. But it's a Wise guess.