Chapter 39 - Darn That Dream.

The last day of their beach vacation went by in a blur of fun. All the drama and angst of the day before was set aside. Justin cooked a gargantuan breakfast for them all - scrambled eggs, bacon, fresh-made scones, with tons of fresh fruit. And, for dessert - yes, despite Brian complaining that nobody had dessert after breakfast, Justin had insisted - the chef had baked this scrumptious blue cheese and cream torte topped with blueberries, and even Brian ate some. Of course, after all that they could barely waddle their way down to the beach afterwards.

After about an hour of simply lying around while they digested their breakfast feast, with Gus playing quietly amid his piles of colorful, chalk-decorated stones at their feet, they all started to get a second wind. And, since it was starting to get cloudy and a little cooler, Brian declared it was time to put away the beach chairs and do something more active to help work off all the calories he’d been ‘forced’ to consume. Justin and Gus were agreeable so they all headed down the beach a short ways to check out the Brighton Palace Pier and all the attractions there.

‘More active’ was definitely the theme for the rest of their morning. The Pier was sort of a mini-amusement park built out over the water, with just about everything a tourist with kids in tow might want. There were the usual shops and restaurants, but there were also rides. Gus immediately turned into your typical, rowdy child as soon as he saw them, towing his father and his Jussin around from one thing to another. Brian, of course, happily indulged his son, putting him on every ride he was big enough to go on.

For the most part, Brian and Justin satisfied themselves by cheering Gus on from the sidelines as the boy went solo on the kiddie rides. There was no way in hell Brian was going to get on something called ‘The Flying Sea Dragons’ or ‘The Elephant Parade’, even if he could fit into those tiny seats. But Gus didn’t seem to mind; he simply smiled and waved at them with EVERY pass. Justin did relent and take up a seat on the horse next to Gus on the beautiful, old-fashioned Carousel, though, claiming he wanted to get a closer look so he could sketch them later. Brian had to stand there and wave at his boys all alone for the duration of that ride.

When they came across the bumper cars, though, Brian got a little miffed that Gus just automatically assumed he’d be riding with His Jussin. Brian understood that the blond pilot was an Experter, but it didn’t take special RAF training to operate a fucking bumper car, did it? Brian was perfectly capable of driving a little electric car that only went two miles an hour.

When Brian tried to assert his rights, however, Gus protested again. “You wouldn’t fit, Daddy. Your big spider legs are waaaaayyyy too long.” Then Gus proceeded to take Justin’s hand and lead him to the car he wanted to sit in, leaving Brian standing there all alone.

“Fuck this,” Brian murmured crossly.

When Gus and Justin weren’t looking, he quickly trotted over to an empty car on the far side of the track and folded his long ‘spider legs’ inside - his knees may have been almost touching his chest, but he fit just fine. When the ride operator turned the power on and rang the bell to let all the drivers know it was time to roll, Brian floored the accelerator and zoomed around the other drivers until he was right behind his boys, waiting until they weren’t paying attention to . . . BANG dead center into the back of their car, knocking the whole thing a good six feet forward into the guardrail of the track. The duplicate looks of surprise turning to laughter from both boys had Brian cackling with laughter himself as he drove off. The rest of their turn on the bumper cars was spent in a friendly rivalry to see who could knock the other the most.

The rest of the time at the Pier was spent in a similar fashion. They did every single ride and attraction. Then they ended the visit by pigging out on fresh-made donuts and sodas. And finally, when nobody could stuff even one more donut in his face, Brian declared that their job at the Pier was done.

By that time the clouds that had held off most of the weekend had completely taken over the sky and it was getting a little chilly, so Brian suggested they pack up the rest of their beach gear. Gus was really sad to say goodbye to his perfect little-person house, but Brian promised they could come back some day in the future, which seemed to placate the boy. Secretly, Brian was a little sad to see that part of their holiday go, as well.

But, as they started for the cottage, Justin proposed one last side trip, declaring that they couldn’t come to Brighton and NOT see the Royal Pavilion. Brian groaned; he really wasn’t into touring moldy old buildings just because a million other people had gone to see them in the past. Justin insisted, though, stating that he really wanted to sketch it, so Brian capitulated with as much grace as he could muster. He didn’t even complain - well, not THAT much - that it took them over an hour to tour the Indian themed seaside pleasure palace built for King George IV. He was quite happy, though, when Justin announced he had a good enough initial drawing that they could leave and he’d finish the sketch later.

Back at the cottage, Justin set to work making yet another huge feast to celebrate their last night there. Brian was actually quite impressed with how fast Justin had adapted to using the computer to find recipes and then taken to all the modern kitchen conveniences he’d discovered. Brian could tell how much Justin was going to miss HIS kitchen when they went back to London. So, even though Brian was tired of all the big, high-calorie meals and would have to spend some quality time in the hotel’s gym over the next week to make up for it, he volunteered to help cut and carry and prep while Justin cheffed. And it was worth it when they sat down to the most delicious meal, comprised of spaghetti with a white wine and clam sauce, tossed green salad on the side and homemade garlic bread. Gus was so excited that His Jussin had made ‘p’sketi’ that he didn’t even notice there was seafood in it and he ended up eating two servings. But the gooey chocolate fudge brownies Justin made with the box mix he’d discovered were an even bigger hit with the boy, who ended up needing a bath immediately after dinner to get all the chocolate off him. How chocolate ended up in his little belly button fuck only knew.

Once dirty little boys were bathed and put to bed, and Justin had finished putting his beloved kitchen to rights, Brian took the chef to bed and spent the rest of the night cooking up his very own brand of fun, until they both passed out, having thoroughly enjoyed their last day of holiday to the max.

Justin couldn’t help being sad when they packed up the last of their bags and locked the cottage door behind them the next morning. He’d never had a holiday like this one. It had almost felt like a fairy tale - the perfect little cottage, the beach, the fun outings, and the uninterrupted time with Brian and Gus - it had been so wonderful that he wished it never had to end. That he could go on living that dream forever. But he was a realist, so even though it hurt like the devil, he knew he had to get back to his real life.

The walk back to the train station was more difficult than before since they’d acquired so much more stuff during their short stay and were therefore laden with several additional bags. Even so, Justin felt bad that they were leaving so much of the uneaten food he’d purchased in the cottage. He hadn’t thought that part out very well, and he hated the idea of wasting all that food - something that would be considered almost criminal in wartime London where food was sometimes scarce. But Brian had told him he’d left a note for the cottage owners asking them to donate it all to something called a ‘homeless shelter’. And there was no way they’d have been able to get it all back with them on the train.

Gus was excited to be riding on a train again, which meant he wasn’t all that upset about the end of their Brighton trip. Once they were all seated and their many bags stowed, Brian kept the boy occupied playing some kind of matching game on Gus’ little toy lightbox. Justin pulled his own out - still absolutely thrilled at the very thought of owning such an incredible object - and began looking at some of the cooking pages he’d found, wishing that he’d have someplace to make all the fabulous dishes he was reading about. But that part of the wonderful vacation was over now too and he quickly surmised that looking at all the dishes he’d never have an opportunity to make was just depressing

While he had the lightbox thing out, though, Justin thought about looking something up regarding the Royal Pavilion. He vaguely remembered hearing something about what had happened to the place back in his day - that it had been boarded up out of fear it would be destroyed by the Gerries - but hadn’t seen any discussion of that while they were there the day before. Justin still marvelled at how easy it was to find out information about almost anything using these lightboxes. He quickly found what he’d been thinking about - confirmation that the Pavilion had indeed been boarded up in 1940 and also that the Palace Pier had literally been dismantled during that period for fear the Germans would use it as a landing point for an invasion. Of course, that search brought up all sorts of additional information about the war and Justin quickly found himself immersed in information about HIS war that only future historians would know.

Research about Brighton quickly led to information about the Germans’ initial invasion plans. Which then led him to additional information about how the German’s plans had changed focus around May, 1941 to the eastern theater of the war. Justin got pulled into reading about the campaign in Poland and Russia. And that, inevitably, led to a whole slew of information on the horrible, hidden things that the Gerries were doing in Poland at the time - or, from Justin’s perspective, right that minute in HIS time - the concentration camps, the wholesale murder of millions of Poles and Slavs, the very idea of anything as monstrous as ‘Ethnic Cleansing’ of Jews . . . What Justin was reading about was truly horrendous. He couldn’t fathom how these things could actually be going on and nobody in his world even knew. The pictures he was finding made him sick to his stomach. How could anyone do that to another human being? How were they getting away with it? Why didn’t anyone in his time know about this. Why hadn’t anyone tried to stop them?

Well, damn them all - HE knew and HE would do whatever he could, with whatever time he had left, to stop them.

“What’s wrong, Blue Eyes,” Brian’s quiet voice interrupted his angry scrolling through the pages he was viewing on his lightbox.

Brian scooted over from where he’d been sitting with Gus to the seat beside Justin instead. He looked down at what Justin had been reading and then purposefully took the lightbox out of his hands. Brian then pushed the little button to shut the light off and set it aside. Finally, Brian reached up, wiping away a tear from Justin’s cheek that he hadn’t even realized was there.

“It’s so . . . horrible isn’t even a strong enough word for what this is, Brian,” Justin tried to explain himself. “Revolting? Abhorrent? How do you describe . . . THAT?”

Brian looked over at Gus, noting that the boy still seemed caught up in his game, before turning back to Justin. “You don’t. There are no words for that. Even seventy-five years later, there’s no way to avoid the horror of the Holocaust. All we can do is refuse to forget so that we NEVER let it happen again. And fight the evil that seems to drive humans to that extreme again and again.”

Justin might have said more - it felt like something more needed to be said - but just then Gus looked up and smiled at him. And he couldn’t ruin the boy’s day by dwelling on the horrors that were far in the past for this happy little boy. He couldn’t do it. So, when Gus challenged him to play his little game, Justin sniffed, forced a smile and moved over to sit next to the boy, playing his games, reading or sketching for the rest of the journey.

But he wouldn’t ever forget what he’d seen that afternoon.

The excitement and bustle that greeted them when they arrived at the train station back in London momentarily distracted Justin from his anger. Lindsey was waiting for them in Victoria Station and immediately swooped down on her son. Gus was so happy to see her, and so eager to tell her every detail about what they’d done in Brighton that everything else was forgotten for the time being. They all went back to Lindsey’s hotel where they unloaded all Gus’ bags and purchases. Then Justin had to listen to Gus raving to his mother all about ‘His Jussin’ and everything Gus thought Justin could do. From the way Gus was going on and on, you’d think Justin was a superhero or something. It was quite embarrassing.

“Mommy, did you know that My Jussin is an Experter in EVERYTHING?” Gus continued after a full explanation of the Pony Cart Debacle. “He knowed all about ice cream, an’ fixing boo boos, an’ he kin kill people with his bear claws . . .”

Gus demonstrated this last point by making his little hands into claws and growling at his mother, which earned Justin a disapproving look from a confused Lindsey. Brian was no help at all; he was just standing there, trying not to laugh too loudly. Justin, meanwhile, could feel the blush heating up his face and figured he probably looked like a tomato by that point.

“Well, it certainly sounds like you had a wonderful time, Lambskin,” Lindsey pronounced as soon as she could get a word in edgewise. “But I’m glad to finally get you back to myself. I missed you.” Lindz gave her boy a huge hug and then turned to Justin. “Thank you for showing Gus such a fun time this weekend. It was so nice of you to go to all that effort.”

Justin didn’t know quite what to say to that. The words themselves were perfectly polite but the manner in which they were spoken was rather cool and dismissive. It was like she was thanking a stranger for taking care of her son, and now that his job was done, she was telling him he was free to go.

“It was my pleasure,” Justin replied in an equally aloof tone.

“So, Bri,” Lindsey turned to Brian as if Justin no longer mattered, “how about I get changed and you can treat me to dinner so I can hear more about your adventures? You did promise me some ‘hanging out’ time, right?”

“Lindsey . . .” Justin could hear the edge of anger in his lover’s voice and knew that Brian and Lindsey were on the verge of an argument.

Justin did not want his swell holiday ruined at the end by an argument, though, so he immediately cut in. “I think that’s a great idea, Brian. I do have to fly tonight, so I should probably make a leg home and get ready. I hope I still fit in my uniform after all we ate this weekend.”

“Nooooo!” Gus wailed, throwing himself at Justin’s knees and holding on so tight that he couldn’t have taken a step if he tried. “You can’t go, Jussin. Pweeeeaaasssse!”

“Sorry, Gus, but I have to go,” Justin explained, prying apart the boy’s stranglehold on his knees and lifting the boy up for a real hug. “I’ve got a mission to fly tonight and it’s super important so I can’t miss it.” Justin lowered his voice to a hushed tenor, as if conveying a secret, and added, “I’ve got to go protect the free world from evil tonight, Buddy. You wouldn’t want me to stay and maybe let some evil bad guy escape, would you?”

Gus shook his head and wrapped his arm tighter around Justin’s neck. “Are you going to shoot the bad guys down out of the sky?”

“That’s the plan, Buddy,” Justin confirmed, adding a kiss to the tip of Gus’ nose before giving the little body one last squeeze and then setting him down onto his feet again. “You go on with your Daddy and Mommy now, okay? And don’t forget to tell your Mommy all about how we won the Bumper Cars against your Daddy.”

“‘Kay, Jussin. Love you,” Gus said, giving Justin’s knees one last hug goodbye.

Justin turned his attention to Brian, “Are you okay getting all this stuff back to your hotel?” He gestured to the extra bags they’d left just inside the door of Lindsey’s room.

“Sure. But you don’t have to go yet, do you?” Brian sounded almost as forlorn as his son at the prospect of Justin leaving.

“I might as well,” Justin answered as he walked over close enough to snake his arms around the man’s waist and pull Brian in close to him. “Gotta go kill bad guys and make the world safe for handsome men and their adorable sons.”

Brian sighed, leaning down to capture Justin’s lips and not letting go for a rather long time, all things considered. “I fucking hate that you have to go,” Brian whispered. Then he straightened up and added in a louder voice. “Be safe and get your ass back here first thing in the morning so we can have that talk we didn’t get to have . . .”

“Roger that, Handsome,” Justin replied, giving a mock-salute along with a saucy wink, before turning with a crisp military motion and walking out the door without a look back.

Justin took his time heading back to Duckett’s Passage after leaving Lindsey’s hotel. He was in no hurry. He didn’t have to check in for his mission that night till nine-thirty and it was only just barely four in the afternoon. Plus, he really wasn’t looking forward to going back; not after the weekend of fun he’d just had. The prospect of returning to the bleakness and destruction of wartime London was decidedly unappetizing. So it was really no wonder that he was dawdling.  

When he got to the high street off of which Duckett’s Passage was located, he noticed a little coffee shop that had the same green banner over the door as the one Brian liked to visit near the Palace. He still had a few modern pound coins in his pocket that Brian had given him while they were down in Brighton, so he thought maybe he’d stop in and enjoy a coffee before he headed home. He sure as shootin’ wouldn’t get any coffee back in his own time, what with rationing and all. So he bravely stepped into the little shop, waited in line and even managed to order a drink for himself, proud that he’d remembered the name of the one Brian always got for him - a Grande Caramel Mocha. It felt strange to be here, in this time, doing something so alien as ordering a fancy coffee drink, without Brian at his side, but he still managed. And once he had his drink in hand, he took a seat on a stool at the bar next to the window where he could look out on the people passing in the street.

It was probably a typical street scene for anyone in 2016. But seen through Justin’s eyes, it was all miraculous. There were people walking by, talking on their lightboxes, getting in and out of their electric cars, using their plastic money cards to pay at the parking meters, which Brian had told him were run on energy generated from the sun. And the people themselves were almost as alien; it seemed like every kind of people in the world were walking by his window - black, brown, white - dressed in the most outlandish and colorful clothing. Not to mention that the people didn’t even ACT like people in the 1940s would. Take the two men walking down the street holding hands and then kissing goodbye on the street corner before one went into a pub across the street. It would probably never stop feeling strange to Justin. Nice, but strange.

When his coffee was done, Justin made his way back outside. Duckett’s Passage was as empty as always, so it was a simple matter for him to duck down the alley, locate the time rift, and slip through. The time passage didn’t feel that frightening to him anymore; at least not as strange as the arrival back in 1941 felt. There was just a different feel to the very air in this time. And after being away for so many days, Justin noticed the change this time more than before. The air itself was heavier and darker. There was more smoke in the atmosphere. It even felt colder and damper for some reason. It was like the world he’d grown up in had changed in some almost imperceptible way. Or maybe he had.

Justin made his way directly to Mrs. MacCready’s boarding house. He hadn’t thought to change out of the more modern clothing he’d been wearing before he came back through time and he was getting some odd looks as he walked down the street. The first order of business was to change back into his uniform; maybe that would help him feel like he fit back in this time again.

Justin spent a couple minutes catching up with his landlady before running up the stairs to his room. She seemed happy to hear he’d had a good time on leave - he didn’t, of course, tell her where he’d been or anything about Brian - and commented on the fact that he looked relaxed and tanned. Justin was still thinking about that and nothing else as he ran up the stairs, so it’s no wonder he was surprised when he opened the door to find Hobbs lying on his bed in their shared room.

“Where the hell you been?” Hobbs snarled before Justin was even all the way in the room. “And what the hell are you wearing?”

Justin looked down at the pair of ‘jeans’ he had on, and felt himself blushing. They might have been perfectly acceptable, fashionable even, in 2016 but here, they looked like something a farmer or a convict would wear. Not to mention the thin cotton shirt or the ‘trainers’ shoes Brian had bought for him. The only thing that didn’t look out of place was the brown leather bomber jacket.

“I had a few days leave so I went out to the country,” Justin answered as he stripped off the modern clothing and quickly pulled his uniform on, happy to be in more familiar clothing.

“Why the devil would you do a stupid thing like that? Nobody but a dope goes to ‘the country’ on leave,” Hobbs laughed, setting aside the magazine he’d been thumbing through to sit up so that he could better harass Justin. “That where you got those spiffy duds too?”

“Lay off, Hobbs. It was a gas and I don’t want to have to come back just to deal with a fat head like you ten minutes after I get back.”

“Who’d you go with? You got a bird on the side nobody knows about?” Hobbs persisted.

“Don’t you have somewhere you’re supposed to be, Hobbs?” Justin asked, not interested in playing twenty questions with the idiot.

“Nope. I’m off tonight. I was thinking of going out fishing and seeing if I can pull a live one or two. You wanna tag along? I’ll throw you my leftovers.”

“I don’t think so, Hobbs,” Justin made at face at the very idea of going out with a wolf like Hobbs and spending the evening trying to pick up women. “Besides, I’m flying tonight.”

“Too bad for you, meatball,” Hobbs smirked and flopped back onto his bed again. “Not that having a drip like you along would help me land dames anyway. Now, if we were out to round up a couple queers, that would be another matter. A fruit like you would probably like that, wouldn’t you?”

For a moment, Justin thought about using Brian’s favorite phrase and telling Hobbs to just f*** off, but he’d been raised better and his mother would be shocked if she ever found out he said a word like that. Instead, Justin ignored Hobbs, pulling his peacoat on and grabbing his uniform cap before leaving and slamming the door behind him with a satisfying *thunk*. Stupid Hobbs. Stupid times when he couldn’t even admit who he’d gone away with for the weekend. Stupid, stupid, stupid everything around here.

At least Daphne and the guys down at the White Lion seemed happy to see him when he finally made it over there. They were all excited to hear about his trip to the country with Handsome. But even with these folks, Justin couldn’t tell the entire truth. Because here in 1941, Brighton was pretty much closed up for the war and nobody went there for just a few days leave anyway. He didn’t have to lie to Fancy and Curly about who he’d taken his leave time with, though, so that was good. Plus, it was nice to feel like he was back at home again - something he always felt when he was seated at his usual table in his local.

But even here among other queers, there was always an undercurrent of fear. A need to protect yourself. A threat that, if you were too blatant or showy, your secret would come out and you’d find yourself in a heap of trouble. Even here, queer couples couldn’t kiss or hold hands. And after being with Brian, in Brian’s time, for most of the past week, it felt so restrictive it was almost suffocating.

Apparently Justin’s morose mood showed, since he was waylaid by Daphne when he went over to the bar for a second pint. Daphne looked her friend in the eye and then held the beer up in the air, out of his reach. He looked at her, perplexed, and reached a second time for the glass, but she still wasn’t going to give it to him.

“Uh, uh, uh,” she shook her head and looked at her best friend closely. “For a bloke what just got back from ‘oliday, yer don’t look all that cheerful, Sunshine,” Daphne stated. “Ya know, if you don’t cheer up, we’ll have ter change yer name to Gloomy.”

Justin tried to give her a smile, but he knew his effort probably lacked a certain amount of conviction.

“Right, then, spill . . . and then yer can ‘ave yer blinkin’ drink back,” Daph demanded. “What’s got you so down, Sunshine?”

Justin grabbed the glass anyway, and contemplated the depths of his beer for a minute or so while he thought about it all, trying to come up with an explanation he could tell his friend.

“Have you ever wanted something - I mean REALLY wanted something - that you knew you could never have?” he finally asked, looking up into the woman’s kind face and seeking the answers he needed there.

“Oh, blimey, yes!” Daphne answered with a melodramatic sigh. “There was this dandy hat in the window o’ Selfridges t’other day - t’was a work of art, dontcha know - but I’d ‘ave ta sell me Da to be able to afford it.”

They both laughed at that for a couple of seconds before Daph realized her joking hadn’t cured her friend’s sour mood.

“What’s it you been wantin’ then, Sunshine? Maybe I can ‘elp yer?”

Justin took a deep draught of his beer before responding. “Did you know Brian has a son?”

“Bloody ‘ell! ‘Andsome ‘as a son? Oh, my! I did NOT see that one comin’,” she exclaimed, smiling at first but then looking at Justin with even more confusion. “E don’t ‘ave a wife hidden away somewheres does he? ‘Cause ifs he does, ‘e’ll ‘ave me to answer for it.”

Justin snorted with laughter, almost spilling his beer. This was why he loved his best friend.

“Didn’t think so,” Daph smiled too. “Well, ‘ow’d ‘e work that then?”

“It’s a long story,” Justin answered, not wanting to even try and explain the logistics of how Gus came about. “The boy lives with his mother but she and Brian are still good friends and he gets to see Gus all the time. I got to meet him this week and Gus even came with us on holiday.”

“Don’t see why ‘ats a problem, though, Sunshine. You sayin’ you don’t like kids or sumthin’? I always ‘ad yer pegged as someone that kids would love. Ain’t it mutual?”

“Oh, no! No, that’s not it at all!” Justin was quick to correct her misconception. “No, Gus is an amazing kid. He’s sweet and funny. He’s quick too; he’s not even four yet and he already knows his letters. And you should see Brian when he’s around his son . . . Applesauce, Daph! Even if I hadn’t already loved Brian to pieces, after seeing him with his son I’d have been bowled over. They were so sweet together.” Justin smiled sadly into his beer. “But . . . I just . . . I can’t ever have that and it’s killing me.”

“Well, I can see ‘ow that’d complicate things a bit,” Daphne continued with her analysis of matters. “It’s hard enough fer two blokes to be together wivout drawin’ attention.” They both looked across the bar to where Lucky and Curly we’re sitting together at a quiet table in the corner, their heads together as they spoke in low voices, sharing the kind of intimate smiles that wouldn’t be allowed outside the White Lion. “Especially wiv yer wantin’ to be a pilot an’ all - yer ‘as to be more careful than most, I s’pect. An’ havin’ a kid in the mix would definitely cause a few eyebrows ta raise,” Daphne added. “But if that’s what yer really want, Sunshine, ain’t there some way you could make it work?”

For about half a second Justin thought about telling Daphne everything - about Brian and the future and his rapidly approaching appointment with death - but almost before the thought was fully formed, he realized he couldn’t hurt her like that. He knew just how hard his death would be on his best friend; he’d heard it first hand from Lottie back in 2016 and there was no need to burden her with the same foreknowledge he was suffering under.

“I wish that was all there was, Daph, but I’m afraid . . . Well, that life . . .  it just isn’t in the cards for me, I guess,” Justin declared with a wistful smile.

Then he raised his pint in the air, as if to toast the future he knew he’d never have, and downed the rest of his beer in a few quick gulps. He wondered how it was he could be sitting here, talking with his best friend, yet still feel so alone? It didn’t make sense, yet it’s exactly how he was feeling.

“So, you wanna be my date to the Squadron Formation Celebration a week Saturday?” He asked, trying to change the subject and reconnect with this world again. “All the high muckety-mucks will be there and it’s sure to be a real humdinger of a time. Plus, there’s gonna be dancing afterwards, so you and I can cut the rug for a bit. What do you say?”

“Jeepers. . . Really? Yer wanna take ME?” Justin could tell from the way Daphne’s eyes were sparkling that she was thrilled by the idea.

“Well, I can hardly take Brian, now can I?” Justin teased.

“Ach! Now THAT I would love ta see,” Daphne tittered with laughter at the suggestion. “But o’ course I’d love ta be yer date, Sunshine. Just try an’ keep me away! I jus’ gotta think about where I put my dancin’ shoes.” She beamed.

“Great! Now, I’d best get going so I don’t get put on report and have to miss the dance after all. ‘Night, Daphne!”