Archive of Our Own

The others were up to something, and they were keeping him out of it.

Which, fine. He got it, they'd had a lot of time to get buddy-buddy while he was… away. And yeah, he was making a genuine, white-knuckled effort to be nicer, but it would take several eternities to earn any real trust.

So whatever! The others were working on a project, and Jax wasn't invited. What else was new. If it felt uncomfortably familiar for the guy who only recently un-abstracted himself, well. Them’s the breaks.

Jax allowed himself a luxurious stretch in the hammock he'd pitched between two stacks of giant block toys. It was a convenient spot: distant enough to fade from awareness, but close enough to eavesdrop. Reclining leisurely, he gave a surreptitious glance around. 

Rags was talking with Caine again—she was building something, and she was by far the worst at hiding it. She always looked over at him with shifty, guilty eyes before lowering her voice to a whisper. 

Gangle was technically more subtle, but only because she already spent most of her days scribbling in her sketchbooks. The only difference now was the way she angled the pages away from his sight. Zooble spent half their time looking over her drawings with low-voiced suggestions. The pair of them were doing it right now. And when Zooble wasn't with Gangle, they were invariably scheming with Pomni.

Pomni. She was the weirdest. She’d do the rounds talking to each of the others in turn—god only knew what Kinger’s role was in all this—and then come around to talk to him. Saying all kinds of stupid stuff, like how good it was to have him back around, and how nobody thought any different of him after the horrifying, humiliating display he’d made of himself post-abstraction. All snot and tears, apologizing to people who weren't even there, letting his stupid heart bleed out all over the floor as he even confessed—that.

Eugh, just the thought made him want to crawl out of his skin. He'd made it clear he wanted absolutely no follow-up discussion of the event, and other than Pomni’s awful attempts to make him feel safe, thankfully no one had brought it up.

Speak of the devil... Pomni’s approach jolted him out of his reverie, and he realized he’d been stewing in his thoughts long enough for the main circus floor to clear out.

“Hey,” Pomni greeted in that same sorta-friendly, sorta-careful voice she'd been using with him since he came back. “I’m thinking of checking out the new slumber party adventure Caine put together. Want to come along and steal the snacks?”

Jax eyed her as the hammock swung lazily back and forth. “This wouldn't happen to have somethin’ to do with that project you're all working so hard on, would it?”

Surprise flickered across her face. “Oh. You noticed that?”

He closed his eyes and reclined all the more leisurely. “Small world.”

Pomni seemed to think hard for a moment before saying, “Alright. I’ll let you in on it. If you come with me to raid slumber party world.”

Jax let the offer linger unanswered for a few moments as if he just couldn't bear to separate from his beloved hammock, but ultimately he stood up with a full-body stretch and a shrug. “Fine, I guess I can keep you company while you live out your preteen slumber party dreams, or whatever.”

Except that as he went to follow her, a flurry of footsteps clamored behind him, and a rough burlap hood was crammed over his head.

He flailed as the world went dark. He inhaled something sweet in the musty fabric, and then the world really went dark.

“You guys freaking chloroformed me!?”

“Oh great, you're back!”

Jax ignored Ragatha’s cheerful announcement in favor of pulling at the ropes that bound him. “A burlap sack?” he demanded. “Really?”

“Well you weren't going to come willingly,” Pomni spoke from over to the side, where she was busy arranging something on a small table.

“Well jeez Pomni, I thought consent was important.” This struck a chord in his mind. “Are we here for round two? At least take a guy to dinner first, yeesh.”

Ragatha flushed red at the reminder of that first day without Caine, when Gangle and Zooble had disappeared to bask in their ability to have sex, leaving the three of them alone with the suggestion to do some exploration of their own.

Good times. Weird times. He could get down with something like that again.

“It, you—!” Ragatha was stammering in a strangled voice.

“Maybe later,” Pomni told him, and he couldn't see her but he could hear the eyeroll in her voice.

Okay, so what exactly was going on here? The room was all done up in pinks and purples, complete with shag carpeting and pillows everywhere. Presumably the slumber party adventure Caine had cooked up. Pomni was still fiddling with something at the edge of his vision, and Ragatha was sitting in front of him on a padded stool. They seemed to be the only ones in the room. Soft pink ropes wrapped around his wrists, chest, and legs (he could recognize Gangle’s handiwork when he saw it), tying him artfully to a wooden chair.

“So what is this,” he asked nonchalantly, his gaze still flicking around the room, “CIA Barbie? I gotta warn you, I won't talk under waterboarding, but maybe if you start ripping out fingernails—”

“Jax!” Ragatha yelped, covering her ears. Ha, Rags always was a lightweight. “Jeez! You don't even have fingernails!”

He glanced at his gloved hands, neatly tied to the armrests. “Huh, so I don't.”

“Barbie’s not a bad guess though,” Pomni told him. She came back into view and held something up for his inspection. “We're gonna do your makeup.”

Jax stared at the eyeshadow palette and felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. “No you're not,” he said automatically.

“Yeah we are!” Ragatha’s voice was now filled with gung-ho enthusiasm. Oh, god, they might actually be serious.

“I’ll scream,” he warned them, already glancing around for the exit. “I’ll yell for Caine.”

“Caine knows.”

He gaped at Pomni as she shrugged in non-apology. Ragatha had already popped open the eyeshadow and was tapping a brush into the pigment. “L-look,” he stammered, “we can talk about this. Rags, I’m sorry I said your dress looks stupid—”

A look of offense crossed her face. “You said it looked fine!”

“Oh, that must have been an inside thought then. See, aren’t I already becoming a better person?”

His words were coming out fast, but Ragatha’s expression hardened into determination. She raised the brush like a dagger and leaned forward into his space. “Ready or not, here I come. Pomni, can you hold his head still?”

“On it.”

“Hey hey hey hold up waitaminute st—ow!”

“Well if you’d stop squirming it wouldn't get in your eyes, would it!”

“Help! Help! These women are psychopaths!”

“Keep yelling buddy, no one can hear you scream.”

That last voice came right next to his ear, as Pomni had all but put him in a headlock.

The firm jab of the brush lightened into a gentle, well, brushing sensation now that he couldn't squirm as much, and he glared at Ragatha through his non-closed eye. It was a weird vantage point; she was looking intently at him, but she also wasn't looking at him. Her eyes were focused on her work as she dabbed pigment onto his eyelid. He watched as she went back to reload the brush. She was starting with a purple base slightly darker than his skin. She’d probably follow it up with a darker shade and a lighter highlight to add dimension before moving on to eyeliner. Or something. He wouldn't know. He’d never looked into that kind of thing before.

God, did she have to be so up in his face for this? And Pomni’s touch was everywhere, with her arm wrapped securely around his neck and her head against his. They were both so… close. He could feel their breaths mingling on his cheeks. It made him want to claw his face off.

“He's relaxing,” Pomni told Ragatha over his head.

“No ‘m not,” he muttered.

“Huh,” Ragatha said, giving him an amused once-over, “maybe we won't need to apply blush after all.”

“I am not!” Jax denied the implication automatically, trying to sit up but held back by the ropes and Pomni’s firm grip. Now he was aware of the heat flooding his cheeks, and he cursed his traitorous body. It wasn't his fault he was pressed up against two girls who seemed determined to touch him. He was only human!

“Girl, I swear if you don't hold still!” Ragatha snapped.

Her words had their intended effect as Jax fell utterly still, his train of thought grinding to a halt. Did she just say girl?

Obviously she meant Pomni. Just Pomni. Obviously. Except she’d also said ‘you.’ Implying Jax. Which didn’t make sense.

Girl, you, Jax. See? They didn't add up. Ragatha misspoke. Silly Rags, always mixing things up.

Pomni’s voice. “I think she might have liked being called a girl.”

Girl again. She. Short circuit. Reboot. Reboot, damn you!

“She can feel however she likes about it as long as she keeps holding still like this. Okay, next. Close your other eye.”

Jax’s eye slipped closed without his consent, and words fell from his mouth. “I’m not…” He meant to say more, but somehow those were the only ones he could summon up.

“Sure you are,” Pomni told him, her voice taking on a soothing tone. “You're at a slumber party right now, aren't you? You're getting your makeup done.”

“This is how I first learned how to do makeup,” Ragatha said as the little brush swept over his eyelid. “I had such a crush on the other girls.”

Jax’s thoughts were a swirling, scrambled mess. Girl. Slumber party. She. Crush. Concepts that shot through her like an electric shock, rattling the core of him. It made it seem so easy, comparatively, to just sit there quietly and sink into the gentle sensation of the brush. The arm around his neck, holding him secure. The warm breaths splashing over her cheeks. “This,” he breathed, “is so messed up.”

“Shut up Jax,” Ragatha ordered kindly. Then her brush paused. “Jaaaaz?” she tried again uncertainly. “Jackie? Hey, what do you want to be called?"

Rags’ uncertainty broke through the spell they’d laid upon him, and this time his voice came out strong. "Jax."

His eyes came open in time to watch them make eye contact over his head. They shook their heads. "No," Ragatha said apologetically, "it's gotta be something else. Maybe not a forever name, but a... a today name! Pomni, do you have any ideas?"

Pomni’s contemplative hum reverberated against his head. Her chin was tucked between his ears, a comfortable position contrasted by the headlock she still kept him in. "I think I have an idea. What do you think about…”

Jax felt his stomach drop out from under him when he heard the devious smile in her voice. He squeezed his eyes shut to deprive Ragatha of the pleasure of watching his reaction to whatever Pomni had up her sleeve.

In a low voice, she sang, "Dai-sy, Dai-sy, bring me your answer, do."

Ragatha made a noise of glee and clapped her hands together. Their voices rose together: "I'm half cra-zy, all for the love of you!"

Jax felt heat rising up from his chest to the tips of his ears. Horrifyingly, mortifyingly, some of that heat also sank lower, pooling down in his lap. "You're monsters. You're all monsters."

“Whatever you say, Daisy,” came Pomni’s wry, amused response.

“Okay!” Ragatha announced, “Done with the eyeshadow. I think I’ll skip the mascara, but I want to do a little eyeliner to make things pop.”

“You're the boss,” Pomni said, doing a mock salute with her free hand.

“I’m going to make you guys wish you’d abstracted.”

Ragatha uncapped a bottle of liquid liner. Despite himself, Jax gulped. “Okay Daisy, this is going to be some very delicate work, and if I mess up, we're going to wipe you clean and start over. We have literally eternity to get this right. And I’m a bit out of practice, so I’m going to need you to stay very still. Capice?”

Jax’s eyes flicked from liner to Ragatha then back to the liner, debating the potential efficacy of rebellion.

Ragatha’s fingers came up to grip him by the chin, forcing him to meet her eyes. “I’m not going to let you look anything less than perfect, and I can and will do this all day. Do you understand?”

A flare of heat ran from her throat to her groin. He couldn't force herself to look away. Slowly, he nodded.

Ragatha searched his face a moment longer before nodding. Jax let his eyes slip closed, and then it was just Rags’ gentle touch and the cool glide of the liner. Pomni’s warmth pressed against him, a contrast against the liner’s slight chill. 

Under her breath, Ragatha murmured intently, “Good girl. Just another second.”

Heat flooded Jax at the words, along with a sense of despair. Just another second and then it would be over, those gentle touches would pull away. In short order, two sharp cat eyes were painted onto her skin.

He felt Ragatha pull away and allowed his eyes to open. She stared at him for several long moments, long enough for doubt to worm its way into his mind. Then she said, half to herself, “Wow. I am good at this.”

Pomni’s arm slipped off of his shoulders. (Was he imagining things, or had it not been very tight for a while? Towards the end, it had almost felt instead like a—) She came around to get a better look, and he watched the smile spread over her face. “Oh, wow,” she murmured, visibly drinking him in.

Antsy anticipation crawled along his skin, and he tugged uselessly at the ropes that still held him down. “Well!? Show me!” he demanded.

His tormentors shared a look. “Nah,” Pomni said.

“You're not dressed yet!” Ragatha added.

Horror dawned on him with all the gentle subtlety of a pie en route to the face. “You mean there's more to this??”

“Well yeah,” Pomni said with a shrug. “As if we’d let Daisy go without getting her all dolled up first.”

“Dolled up in what!?”

“These!”

With that, Ragatha flung open the doors to an armoire he hadn't previously made note of. Inside were easily a dozen outfits, ranging from everyday fashion to skimpy summer wear to high-frill lolita. And all of it, every inch, was in his size.

Realization came with a flash. “Is this what Gangle has been drawing?”

“Ye-p,” Ragatha answered, popping the p.

While Jax absorbed this information, Pomni reached down and—sliced the ropes off of him.

Jax was rapidly losing track of the situation. His eyes flicked from his now untethered body to Pomni’s expectant face to the gleaming knife in her hand.

“Pomni what the hell,” he said. “That was hot as shit.”

She grinned down at him and helped him up. “Thanks. Actually, I brought this because I thought you might need it.”

A genuine, childlike thrill of glee shot through him. “I get a knife?” This was the best news he’d heard all week.

Her grin didn’t change an inch. “No.” She pointed the blade at him with clear intent and jutted her head in the direction of the clothes. “Pick out a dress.”

A bark of a laugh escaped him. “Or what, you’ll stab me?”

She shrugged. “Yeah pretty much. You won't let yourself, so I’m making you. Pick out a dress or I stab you.”

“What if I want to be stabbed?” he asked. “Sounds kinky.”

Ragatha was ready with this answer. “Then you’ll get stabbed, and we'll choose for you. I like this one a lot.”

Jax eyed the bubblegum pink monstrosity of frills, lace, and bells. Gangle and her damned magical girl anime obsession. His gaze slid to the knife still aimed at where his kidneys ought to be, then to the closet full of clothes. “Ughhh. Fine.”

Both tormentors stood back while he rifled through the outfits, which didn't stop them from providing commentary.

“Gangle did great on that one, it’ll really flatter her shape.”

“The sunflower dress is going to look so good on her.”

“Ooh, ooh, pick that one!”

Jax snapped, “I’m not gonna dress up as a ballerina!”

It was when Jax was in the middle of inspecting a flowing black pantsuit that Ragatha burst out, “Not that one!”

Even Pomni looked at her in confusion, and Rags flushed crimson to the tips of her ears. She stammered, “That's! Well! It doesn't have g-good… access. We’d just have to t-take it right back off of you.”

Understanding bloomed across Pomni’s face, and Jax looked back and forth between them. “We get to have sex after this??” he demanded. “Why didn't you tell me!”

It felt good to have someone else be the mortified one for once in this situation. Rags’ face practically matched her hair as she yelped, “W-well! We didn't want to assume!”

“By all means, please assume!” Jax turned back to the row of outfits with renewed vigor. “Finally, someone's talking sense. Put me in a baby onesie and frilly little knee socks for all I care.”

Pomni pointed towards the back of the line. “What about that one?”

Jax pulled it out. The sundress was reddish pink, almost exactly like his overalls. The top part even seemed to be modeled after his usual outfit, with flat straps, yellow buttons, and a high empire waist. Below the waistline was a long, flowing skirt in the same color, and something inside her paused as he held it. The fabric was light, but the dress felt heavy in her hands. The tutu, the magical girl outfit: those were just costumes. This was real. It was dangerous.

‘It was always this easy,’ the dress seemed to say to him. ‘The whole time, it was this easy.’

He was standing at the edge of a cliff, and this dress was a rope pulling him down. He should drop it. There was nothing forcing him to keep hold of it, but she found that he couldn't make herself let go. He wasn't strong enough. Even his thoughts were betraying him.

A voice interrupted. “Put it on,” Pomni urged him quietly. The knife was nowhere to be seen.

“What, you're not gonna hold me down and force it on me?” White-hot embarrassment flooded him as his voice came out rough and unsteady. His fingers clenched into the fabric like he could rip it apart at the seams.

“No,” she said kindly. Cruelly. “You're going to put it on yourself. Because you want to.”

His words came out in a whisper. “I don't think I can.”

It was Ragatha who stepped up. Ragatha, who never could resist helping. She stepped into his space, placing her hands on his shoulders. She smiled a quiet little smile at him and slid her hands down, taking the straps of his overalls with them. They pooled in the crooks of his elbows, unable to go further while he still clutched the dress in his hands.

“You look beautiful, you know,” she told her. “I can't wait to see you in the complete outfit. I can't wait to see you see you. You're going to love it.”

“Sheesh, no pressure,” he said back, but it didn't quite manage to break the tension like he’d hoped. She just smiled at him with all those soft, schmoopy emotions that normally gave him the heebie jeebies.

She took the dress from him, and he let the overalls fall around his ankles. Pomni stepped forward to offer him a hand as he stepped out of them, and then he was holding the dress again.

He looked down at it. “This is crazy,” he told it. “You're all crazy, and I’m crazy for letting you get away with it.”

“Don't make me get the knife again,” Pomni warned.

So Jax… slipped into the dress. It slipped down over his head easily, almost anticlimactically, and then he was wearing it. He was wearing a dress. Was he supposed to feel something about this?

While he was busy thinking about how much it didn't feel like anything, and how maybe that meant he was wrong and all of this had been for nothing the whole time, and he was going to have to walk back the massively humiliating spectacle he’d made of himself for nothing, like a fucking idiot, just like always—Pomni and Ragatha put their hands on him and turned him firmly around.

Oh.

Someone was standing there, in the floor-length mirror he hadn’t been in a position to see before. She wore a reddish pink dress that hugged her high waist and swished around her calves. She was so familiar it ached in her teeth. The eyes were her favorite; she had almost forgotten the makeup during everything that came after. Smokey purple eyeshadow and cat’s eyes so sharp she might cut herself on them.

She didn't realize she’d taken steps forward until her hand touched the flat glass of the mirror.

“That's me…” she breathed, and it finally felt right.

“Do a spin!” Ragatha called out breathlessly. She and Pomni were clutching each other like a lifeline behind her. “Do the twirly thing!”

“The twirly thing…” she mumbled uncertainly, then spun in a hesitant circle. The skirt fanned out slightly around her, and a sense of elation she'd never felt before rose up in her. She spun again, faster this time, and felt how the skirt flared out with the movement. She spun the other way, and this time a laugh escaped her, bright and clear. She couldn't keep her eyes off of herself for long, drinking in the ripple of her skirt, the elegant shape of her waistline, the woman whose eyes she kept catching in the mirror.

“How's it feel?”

She glanced at Pomni through the reflection. “I think this is the horniest I have ever been in my entire life. I might pass out from lack of blood in my brain. Can we please have sex now?”

She was practically tackled to the ground.

Their options for sex had improved greatly since the last time they’d tried this. While no one in the circus was quite ready to test drive any sort of genital-configuration Caine could build for them, they had gotten him to enable erotic touch on certain key parts of their bodies. It was a very welcome change.

All of which was to say, when Ragatha bit a line of kisses up her throat, the noises she made were embarrassingly real. The redhead’s weight pressed her into the floor, comforting and warm in a way she’d never admit to Rags aloud.

Pomni went for the face instead, kissing her hard before peppering her cheeks and forehead with more kisses. She even scritched at the base of her ears like she was a damn cat.

“Daisy,” Pomni said to her, seemingly just to hear it. “Aren't you so pretty, Daisy Bell?”

She had to press her thighs together to avoid squirming. “Stop it.”

Obviously she did no such thing. “Don't think we didn't notice how hot and bothered that got you earlier.”

“I thought she was going to soak through her panties,” Ragatha chimed in. Then she smacked herself on the forehead. “The panties! We forgot the panties!”

“Next time,” Pomni promised.

“Next time??” Daisy squawked. “And—no I did not!”

Ragatha grinned at her. “Are you sure? How about we just check?”

She tried to squirm away, but now Pomni was pinning her down by her arms. Ragatha flipped up the front of her skirt—her skirt, she was wearing a skirt—and pressed a hand between her legs.

The noise she made was mortifying, a needy, high pitched whimper, and they both giggled at her.

“You like it,” Pomni sing-songed above her. “You like being Daisy, don't you?”

“You like having your pretty clit touched, don't you?” Ragatha echoed, rubbing slow circles into her. There was nothing between her legs, clit or otherwise, but the suggestion sent a lightning bolt of desire straight through her. “This is just like my first time with a girl,” Ragatha confided in her. “She rubbed me through my underwear, just like this. I don't even know how many times I came.” She pressed in again, rubbing into her with firm intent, and her words brought the fantasy to life so powerfully Daisy could feel it. Her clit, being rubbed by a girl while another girl held her down. While she wore the perfect dress, with the perfect makeup. She was herself.

Her breaths came in panting gasps, and she whispered frantic curses in between whines and moans. Her climax was approaching embarrassingly fast and she already knew she couldn't fight it.

Ragatha leaned in close. “Do you want to see how many times we can make you cum?”

“Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck I’m gonna—”

Daisy shook apart with a cry until it was just her, just those fingers pressing against her, just her dress fanned out on the floor around her and two friends guiding her through it.

And then hands were lifting her torso, urging her to sit up. Pomni was behind her, guiding her to lay her head and shoulders in her lap. She looked down at her so fondly that it hurt, and Daisy couldn't tear her eyes away. She and Ragatha seemed to have communicated something while she was out of commission, because Ragatha was moving herself and adjusting down below, but Daisy was trapped in Pomni’s gaze.

“I want you to do something for me,” she said, and Daisy found herself nodding in a daze. With one finger, she tipped Daisy’s chin to the side until her gaze met her own reflection in the mirror. “Keep your eyes on her now,” Pomni commanded.

The woman in the mirror was a mess. Her dress was hiked up and crooked, and her cheeks were blotchy and flushed. Her eyes looked a little like she'd been crying and a little like she was high out of her mind. Her head was resting on Pomni’s lap, with Pomni’s hand scritching her ears, and Ragatha was—

Ragatha was—

Ragatha’s face was cradled between Daisy’s thighs, and she only had a moment to process that before warm, wet heat pressed against her. A moan spilled from her lips as Ragatha licked and sucked between her legs.

Fuck, fuck, why did that feel so good? How did it feel so good? She was babbling these thoughts aloud, interspersed with “fuck” and “oh god” and “don't stop, please don't stop.”

Then Pomni’s hand was on her face, gently but firmly turning her gaze back to the side. Back to where she lay, panting and flushed in the mirror. It hurt to look at herself, to let herself experience this, why couldn't she just pretend—?

“Look at how beautiful you are,” Pomni murmured. “Don't you want to watch her cum?”

She didn't. God, she didn't, but she also couldn't drag her eyes away. Shame and want were like fire in her ribcage, and she couldn't decide which burned hotter. All the while, Ragatha’s mouth brought her to new heights until Daisy’s legs shook with the need for release. Her reflection’s yellow cat-eyed gaze locked onto hers and she couldn't even name what she was trying to tell her.

She came this time without warning, fireworks behind her eyes and a wave crashing over her head and dozen other metaphors as Ragatha made no move to stop or even slow down. Pomni pinned her flailing limbs down as the pair of them took her mercilessly through peak after peak after peak.

It was a long time before they let her tap out.

The slumber party room was thankfully well-stocked with pillows and blankets. Daisy laid tucked in between the other two, still riding out the endorphins. She decided she could still be Daisy, at least for a little while longer. For sex reasons. Yeah.

“Holy shit,” she said, not for the first or even fifth time.

She felt a hand (Pomni’s?) pat her reassuringly on the butt. 

“So,” she said, still reeling a little, “Gangle designed the outfits. I get that.”

Ragatha mumbled against her shoulder, “Mm hm.”

“And Caine made them.”

She felt her nod. “All of ‘em and the room we’re in.”

“Which you designed. While Pomni ‘n Zooble, what, planned this whole thing?”

The Pomni in question, resting her head on Daisy’s stomach, also nodded. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“So what about Kinger??”

Pomni again. “Kinger didn't really participate.”

Try as she might, Daisy couldn't control the way her thoughts began to race, her heartbeat picking up alongside. They kept getting caught, stupidly, on the absence of Kinger. Was Kinger—did he not…? Was he against—?

“He said he's been married long enough to know when a man's input won't be needed.” Ragatha’s words broke into her spiraling thoughts. Her voice said, ‘I know where you were going.’ At any other time, Daisy would have cursed her for it. Cursed her for knowing her the longest, for having a brain that traveled some of the same routes hers did.

Still, she felt lukewarm frustration and embarrassment bubbling up inside her. “What is this, a secret group project? My gender stuff isn’t any of your business.”

Ragatha had the grace to squeeze her arm guiltily, but Pomni only picked up her head to level a look at her. “We're making it our business. None of us want you to go through this alone any more.” She lowered her head back to its resting position. “If we gotta hold you down a few more times to do it, then that's what we'll do.”

“Besides,” Ragatha added, “I’d love an excuse to get back into doing makeup.”

“Ugh,” Daisy muttered, ignoring the part of herself that glowed at the prospect. “You guys are the worst.”

Pomni yawned and settled deeper into the blankets. “Whatever, just go to sleep already.”

“Or what, you’ll chloroform me again?”

“Gladly.”