Fletcher's mandibles clicked together noisily, cheerfully even, for his Sherry-meal as several things happened. First - a kind person tried to calm her. It helped, and made the monster hesitate (or perhaps monster Fletcher was simply thanking his good fortune for two meals today), if only for a moment. The gunfire got closer.
Secondly, there was an itty-bitty voice that made Sherry tear her eyes from what was probably going to be a very gruesome death (as Sherry remembered that spiders were like vampires and sucked the fluids from their victims like big, ridiculous juice boxes).
A mouse. A mouse was talking to her.
Mice didn't talk. For a moment, Sherry even forgot to be scared, because, darn it, mice didn't talk and this one did. She gave the little guy her best lineface and stared at him for a moment. Fletcher inched closer, hesitant.
"What." She pursed her lips and said it again, "What." It said something about Sherry's experiences that horrible, mutated friends could be believed and not a cute, talking guardmouse. The nightmare around the three of them shattered.
Caelestine nearly hyperventilates-not that that's saying very much, for a mouse. He edges away from Sherry, looking up at her, pulling the edges of his cloak tighter around himself.
Sherry looked down and peered at the little guardmouse, clearly confused. Her dream was over and the mouse was still talking. Bandit had his little device. and the raptor... well, Sherry wasn't going to think about that giant, scary dinosaur. But this little mouse didn't have anything.
"You're talking," she stated, and lowered herself even further to have a better look at him. He was cute, sort of like the mice in the tank at school. "Neat." Not logical in the slightest, but neat. "I'm going to pick you up," Sherry announced, and with careful little fingers, and absolutely no warning, she picked up the little mouse and held him in her cupped hand.
One thing Doc realized very quickly, was that wherever they were it's not Blood Gulch. The girl was more focused on the talking mouse than him, not that he could really blame her. How often do you see a talking mouse? He cleared his throat loudly as he spoke.
"Uh, hi there. I'm Doc." He said as he smiled cheerfully.
"Too late," Sherry told the mouse with her usual lineface. She looked up at Doc and tilted her head, "You're not part of a dream, too, are you? Because I'm pretty sure I just woke up. Talking mouse aside."
Sherry looked between the older man and down at the mouse. She supposed, if she was in a pinch, she could throw the mouse at the man and hope for the best as she escaped (children were highly adaptable creatures, after all). "I need to find my friends. So, if you aren't a dream - nightmare? - dream-person, will you help me find them?"
Sherry raised her eyebrows, quietly judging his possible usefulness to her in the event she needed a meatshield protector. Parents were one thing, she loved them a lot and they could take care of themselves. Logic breaking mice and strange smiling men?
Hm. Not so much.
"Well, keep up," Sherry said and started for down Stacy's hallways quickly. She was very quick for such a short-legged little thing.
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Secondly, there was an itty-bitty voice that made Sherry tear her eyes from what was probably going to be a very gruesome death (as Sherry remembered that spiders were like vampires and sucked the fluids from their victims like big, ridiculous juice boxes).
A mouse. A mouse was talking to her.
Mice didn't talk. For a moment, Sherry even forgot to be scared, because, darn it, mice didn't talk and this one did. She gave the little guy her best lineface and stared at him for a moment. Fletcher inched closer, hesitant.
"What." She pursed her lips and said it again, "What." It said something about Sherry's experiences that horrible, mutated friends could be believed and not a cute, talking guardmouse. The nightmare around the three of them shattered.
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"It was—you were—"
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"You're talking," she stated, and lowered herself even further to have a better look at him. He was cute, sort of like the mice in the tank at school. "Neat." Not logical in the slightest, but neat. "I'm going to pick you up," Sherry announced, and with careful little fingers, and absolutely no warning, she picked up the little mouse and held him in her cupped hand.
Boy, was Yuri ever going to be jealous.
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"Uh, hi there. I'm Doc." He said as he smiled cheerfully.
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"Don't do that!"
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Sherry looked between the older man and down at the mouse. She supposed, if she was in a pinch, she could throw the mouse at the man and hope for the best as she escaped (children were highly adaptable creatures, after all). "I need to find my friends. So, if you aren't a dream - nightmare? - dream-person, will you help me find them?"
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"Of course. We just have to find our way out."
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meatshieldprotector. Parents were one thing, she loved them a lot and they could take care of themselves. Logic breaking mice and strange smiling men?Hm. Not so much.
"Well, keep up," Sherry said and started for down Stacy's hallways quickly. She was very quick for such a short-legged little thing.