" * Later that night, Ryan lay on the couch, reading and listening to some music, her ankle propped up on a pillow. She had turned on iTunes and set...it to shuffle. Some might have found it odd to hear Bad Company, then Sara Bereilles, followed by John Coltrane, but she liked it. She put her book aside and pushed herself up, trying but failing to stifle a groan of pain and irritation as she did. She used the arm of the couch to push herself up, got her crutches, and went over to turn off the. Finally he forced himself to sit up and look at his surroundings through his right eye. The left one would not open for some reason.While he was still struggling with the reality of where he was, the tank door was unlocked with a loud click. "Okay, listen up and get in line," a man's hoarse voice rasped at them. Years of harsh tobacco and cheap whiskey had permanently ruined his vocal chords. "It's happy hour. You want to see the judge, get in line, and first come first serve. If you don't want. ‘Like, omigawd, stttooooop already. Sheeeeeeeesh.’ ‘I’ll be there in a few minutes.’ (Click). Tony hung up. SPLAT! after SPLAT! after SPLAT! They played for quite a while until . . . Knock! Knock! Knock! on the door. Bang! Bang! Bang! on the door. ‘Shhhhhhhhhhhh!!!’ All the sissies cuddled up on the bed. Afraid. Who could it be? Brrrrrnnnnggg! Aspen’s phone rang again and the Sissies gasped, flustered and curled close together. Aspen answered the phone. ‘Hello???’ ‘You gonna open the door or. Still, if that was what she needed, she had every right to copy and learn them.She selected one and pulled it down, reading through it. He paid her little attention, dedicating himself to the spellbook before him on the table; the way of Deists and their spells was still beyond his ken, although he now understood some of what the Essentialists did. He looked up once in a while, noticed her penquill flying at that furious rate that even he envied in her, then returned his attentions to his.