“Only in an exceptionally vague way.”
“And as I recall, you were armed with little more than an easel, a butterfly net and a leather-bound book of sonnets.”
Oscar’s sulk could have won an award.
The Loud Purr leant loser. “And yet, in the end, you triumphed.”
He looked up. Praise from the Loud Purr was unheard of, yet he’d distinctly heard some.
“Well? Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Are you quite certain that you’ve thought that sentence through, Your Eminent Fluffiness?”
“Quite certain, Pantaloons.”
Vaasi-Vee stared between them, bewildered at the notion of Oscar gallivanting around with easels and butterfly nets. “Excuse me,” she said, shaking her head so sense might loosen and insert itself properly. “But I was under the impression that Vra is the most barren, dull and pointless land on
