“This is strange, Nik. But at least they are all moving together now.”
Sambor was right. The ladies moved as one, stomping, clapping. Running into the males.
Laughing.
The human voice spoke words that made no sense.
“…tell my lips to tell my fingertips…”
The whining male’s voice seemed to repeat over and over in a strange cadence that was singularly annoying. “Why would a male speak to his own fingertips?” I asked. “Human males make no sense.”
Sambor, who seemed to be learning the steps with an ease that made me want to trip him, grinned as he executed a perfect turn on his heel. “The male’s heart is aching and breaking. However, the ladies seem to enjoy the idea of a male in pain.”
As the song repeated a lyric about a male’s heart blowing up inside his own body and killing him, the
