"The magic closet and everything. Right." Clocky could have just beeped for no particular reason at that point, but it sounded to Katchoo like it was a scolding, you should have known that sort of beep. "I'm not going to break down and cry on you, if you're worried about that."

She fumbled a cigarette from the pack and put it between her lips, which explained the slightly muffled sound of her next comment. "She agreed to let me paint her, and then she got nervous about it." Okay, be fair, Chewie. ". . . not the part that had to do with me seeing her. It was this whole --" She pitched her voice a little higher, affected a tiny bit of a Southern accent. "'What would my mom think?' Geez! It's in the room, not in the frikkin' Metropolitan Museum of Art."