“Yes, that's right. If I get you a book would you like to do that for a bit?”
“Yes please, Mrs. L. Me like colours,” said Flug, exuding more childlike excitement than a person with a body the size of small building had the right to.
“Alright then,” she said as she got up. “Back in a mo. Maybe when you're done Ollie will let you put a drawing up on the fridge.”
Flug watched Mrs. Ladle leave the kitchen. Normally, in a circumstance such as this, the 'this' being left on his own, Flug would go into a sort of stasis mode. With no outside stimulation, his prehistoric brain wasn't really capable of too much other than keeping him breathing, although sometimes it even forgot to do that. On quite a few occasions, Ollie or Stitches had had to beat him severely on the chest with a sledgehammer to
