I went inside to sort out the drinks, my mind in a turmoil.
Did Blacksmith just make a pass at me? Did I to him? Did (Naked) Knight really notice? Is he jealous? Should I get a pet macaroon?
All these questions with no discernable answers. And the Host was getting impatient. I'd promised him he could have his body back tonight so he could go to the moving pictures with his friends and see The Hills Are Alive, or somesuch.
Before I knew it, the coffee was made. I don't remember doing it so it must've been the subconscious. Curspherically, I floated the two cups outside, where Knight and Blacksmith were still on the patio. Grabbing the tin of garibaldis, I followed the cups out the door and down the overgrown passage to the back garden.
Knight, having finished projecting his psi-armour, was pulling on his top as I got there. "See you, then" he said to Blacksmith.
"Wait!" I practically shouted. "Are you in a hurry to be anywhere, Blacksmith?"
He gave me a goofy grin. "Uh, no. Not really."
* How sad. Another night in front of the telly for him... *
* Hypocrite *
* Who said that? Nebuchadnezzar? Was that you? *
* - silence - *
* Hmmm... *
"Can I borrow you for a while, then?" I asked him. Knight shot me a filthy look. "If i might elaborate," I shot back "the Host wants to go out this evening but I'd like to have a word with Knight. In person."
Five minutes later, I was inhabiting Blacksmith, the Host had changed and jumped in his car and Knight and I (us?) were Gay Waving him off from the front door as he roared away.
We were alone. My opportunity had arisen. However, Knight's 'opportunity' rose faster. And harder!
I was having reservations about Knight. He seemed too eager to 'rise' to Blacksmith. Methinks something's afoot.
Or eight and a half inches to be precise!