“Can I offer you anything, Vix? Tea?"
Vix was sitting inside Professor Belkin's hut. The ceiling looked like a lumpy quilt, random dips and bumps sweeping out in all directions. Bookshelves had been rammed into every available space, which seemed to be the only thing not covered in a thick layer of grime.
Vix edged away from the closest table, which was covered by glass jars containing what looked to be a mass of pulsing, gelatinous blobs. Covertly, she tried to fold in her chair to fit in as small a space as she could. “No thank you."
Belkin gave a trembling laugh. “Good, because I've only just remembered that I haven't any. Gracious, where is my head, today?"
He tried to pull out a chair from behind a desk, but it was anchored firmly to the ground by a teetering pile of papers.
