If you can't stand on your feet...

"Hahaha," he laughs rhythmically.

"What?"

"Sucker."

"Oh no. Not. This isn't what you think it is."

"Sure, uh-huh."

"Really. I promise."

As usual, he doesn't believe me. I just roll my eyes and keep walking.

"I know that look--that grin betrays you."

"So what if it does. I'd rather the whole world know it." My response surprises him, I know. In a sense, I like to think I've known all along, that I'm not surprised; in reality, no calculations or planning on my part, nothing I could have wanted or imagined in my overly active imagination could even touch on how sublime this is. 

For the first, and maybe the last time, he has a soft expression. I think he's even cracking a smile. That doesn't stop him from reminding me of my responsibilities, "I think you owe someone something."

"You don't get anything. This was all me." His expression instantly hardens.

"No," he screeches, hitting me over the head. "No!"

"Ow! It was just a form of speech. I didn't mean it literally. Do you have to be so violent?"

"With you? Yes."

"Well, it wasn't necessary this time. I'm learning my lesson. I know better than that."

"Therefore..."

"I know what I need to do," I say quietly. Hitting my knees, I look up slyly. "Hey, how do you bow your head?"

He scowls at me, gives a screech and flies away.