Connor, walking through the foyer, was halted in his tracks by a voice he'd never heard before. His immortal "radar" hadn't gone off, so he knew it wasn't an immortal he heard ... nonetheless, he was grateful he was armed.

What the hell is THAT? he mentally questioned, cautiously surveying the room without moving his feet. It sounds muffled, but it's not coming from k'lynn's door.

"Denise? Hel-loooo, Denise, we're in here! You know we're in here ... come and get us, girl!"

Connor took two steps back from the spiral staircase to his right and stared at it suspiciously. I think I'm losing my mind. What did Duncan put in that haggis last night?

Just then, Duncan strode into the foyer and stopped dead upon seeing Connor's alert pose. Immortal radar or not, he had the handle of his katana in one hand although he *did* leave it sheathed. "What is it, Connor?"

"I'm ... not sure," slowly admitted the other man, feeling slightly foolish. "I ... uh ... think I'm hearing things."

"What kind of things?"

"Voices."

"You always hear voices. Ramirez never shuts up inside your head, according to you," reminded Duncan.

"No, no, no--this one's coming from---" Connor stopped, unable to finish because it sounded so inane to admit!

"Where?"

"Um-m-m..."

At that moment, the muffled high-pitched voice erupted again. "Yoooo-hoooo, Denise? What's keeping you? You KNOW we're in here and you KNOW you want us!"

Duncan leaped away from the staircase and his rapid movements made Connor draw his sword, as if a foe had suddenly appeared. Both of them stared at the staircase, bristling with steel.

"You heard it?" whispered Connor.

"I did." Duncan looked thoughtful. "Did I put something odd in that haggis last night?"

"How the hell should I know--you're the one who made it!"

"You were there, Connor."

"I was drunk, remember?"

"Well, so was I."

The haggis discussion was interrupted again by the sugary little voice, which whined plaintively, "Where IS she? Did she forget us? She's never THIS late to eat us!"

Duncan laughed in relief. "Oh, I know what that is!"

"What?" demanded Connor.

"It's the chocolates. Denise must have a bag of M&Ms or a candy bar open in her purse." The Scot pointed at the black purse hung over the post at the bottom of the staircase. "Her chocolate always talks to her, sometimes even when she hasn't opened it yet."

Perplexed and somewhat disbelieving, Connor walked to the purse and slowly lifted the flap and peered inside.

"THERE you are!" shouted the mysterious voice, more clearer now that the purse was open--Connor jerked his head back, but then peeked in the dark recesses of the purse again.

The voice grew alarmed. "Hey! You're not Denise! Get the hell out of our purse! HELP! HELP! Chocolate thief! HELP!"

Connor dropped the flap looking a bit guilty. "Stupid chocolate. I thought I had taken one too many quickenings and was going over the edge! Next thing, I'd be seeing pink hippos in tu-tus dancing a chorus line!"

Duncan, behind him, was doubled over his sword laughing and Connor whapped him with the flat of his *own* sword before putting it away and striding off down the hall.

When Duncan finished laughing over Connor’s confusion, he strode over to look in Denise’s bag himself, and the first thing he said was, “Be quiet or I’ll EAT you!”

The contents in the bottom of the bag squeaked and were silent.

“You know,” Duncan said conversationally, completely unaware of how he looked leaning against the banister railing talking to a purse! “You really ought to be more circumspect with your shouting to Denise, because if RICHIE comes through here and hears you—there won’t be any begging or pleading that will save you from his gullet!”

The purse squeaked again, longer, and then was silent.

“Compendia?” Duncan urged.

“We’ll be quiet,” whispered a voice.

“I will NOT be quiet!” whined another.

“Oh, yes you will! You Browns always think you’re running the show, but us pretty colors have you outnumbered!”

“Yeah! And if you don’t BE quiet, us Purples are going to shove you to the bottom and you’ll get eaten LAST!”

“Is Richie a rowdy? I mean … does he like hanky-panky? I wouldn’t want to waste all my—”

“Look here, Green, will you give it a rest? Honestly, is that all you think about?”

“Well … yes.”

Duncan dropped the purse flap and rolled his eyes. “M&M’s. And here everyone thought every one of them was the same.”

MacNairCDC
(This is all Denise's fault!)
April 2, 2003

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