[Hank slows. Hank stops. Hank crosses his arms and watches, head tilted. There's one of those mist guys who cook every day floating toward where the pumpkin's path is taking it, and he wonders whether it'll pass right through or make the thing poof into ghost-dust or whatever.]
Welp. That's fine.
[Hank looks toward Sheryl. If she looks like she wants to chase he might think about helping. Otherwise, you know what, whatever gets flattened by the thing gets flattened.]
That's what you wanted anyway, right? Further from the wall?
no subject
Welp. That's fine.
[Hank looks toward Sheryl. If she looks like she wants to chase he might think about helping. Otherwise, you know what, whatever gets flattened by the thing gets flattened.]
That's what you wanted anyway, right? Further from the wall?