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"Oh, you're lovely." Garatt kept his voice down to that hushed whisper, worried he might scare the firelizard. "It's okay. I won't hurt you. Do you belong to someone?" He held his hand very still, letting the blue nibble from it.
> Garatt had turned cautiously hearing the rustle. Sometimes you got tunnelsnakes and other vermin out in the stables and he didn't particularly want to end up sharing his sandwich with one of those.
> It didn't look like a tunnelsnake though. He could see *something* in the shadows, even if he wasn't sure what, but it had legs. Cat maybe? Small dog? Garatt peered and then broke a little from the sausage at the side of his sandwich, proffering it. Better not to approach in case whatever it was was shy. "Come on then," he called in a voice only a little above a whisper. "I won't hurt you."
Arch froze for a long moment at the movement and the sound of the
voice, soft as it was. The noises were much like the sort his Human
pet made when trying to coax him out from under the bed. For a moment
the blue flit considered what to do, then, slowly, crept out of cover
and into sight. The smell of the sausage was too enticing to leave.
Slowly and carefully, Arch approached Garatt, stretching his head out
towards the offered tidbit, nibbling at it, though he kept a wary eye
on the boy.
"Life is NOT a journey to the grave with the goal of arriving safely
in a prettily preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways in a
shower of gravel and party shards, thoroughly used, utterly exhausted,
and loudly proclaiming: "F*** ME, that Rocked!!" -unknown
Blackadder: I mean, what about the people that do all the work?
Baldrick: The servants.
Blackadder: No, me; *I'm* the people who do all the work.