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The Mad Demon’s raven hair was so wild that it almost looked alive. He wore a blazingly red frock coat with gold-lined squares all over it, and a white cravat protruded farther out from his neck than was probably proper.

“Feromas, you old so-and-so!” Morgunov threw up his hands and placed them against the bars but didn’t open the cell. “How in the heck are ya?!”

‘I... have been better. But it is good to see you, Nibas.’

“Nibas?!” Morgunov snorted. “Why, nobody’s called me that in... three hundred years! It’s Morgunov now! Obviously! What kind of stoop would want to be called Nibas, huh?”

“...Stoop?”

“Yes. It’s an abbreviation of ‘stupid person.’”

‘I don’t think that’s a real word.’

“It is, if I say it is. I have that kind of power now. I’m a real trend-setter, you know.”

‘...I suppose you are, aren’t you? Where is Bool, by the way? I was hoping to speak with him.’

Morgunov’s smile seemed to widen, though Damian wouldn’t have thought that possible, and the man snickered. “Oh, I’m sure you would like to talk to him, wouldn’t you? And I have no doubt that he would like to talk to you.”

Damian wasn’t liking the Mad Demon’s tone all of a sudden--not that he’d liked it all that much before.

“But ya see,” Morgunov went on, “I dunno if I should actually trust you. As I recall, you were quite the persuasive little rascal, weren’tcha? You talked Bool into doing all sorts of stuff with you, didn’t you? Of course, this was all back when I was still just a teeny-weeny baby servant who barely knew up from down, but I remember you and your mischievous ways! Don’t think I don’t!”

‘I am glad you have not forgotten me,’ said Feromas. ‘But what, precisely, are you afraid that I will convince Bool to do?’

“Oh, who knows?” said Morgunov, gesturing wildly with his hands. “But therein lies the rub, eh? What. Do. Ya plan. To do? Hmm? I know how sneaky you reapers can be. Got all sortsa things going on inside those extra-dimensional brains of yours, don’tcha?”

Feromas sighed. ‘I assure you, I have no such devious plans for Bool.’

“Eheh, well, we’ll see about that.” The Mad Demon’s wide, gray eyes fell upon Damian. “And who is your little friend here? Your servant, I presume?”

‘Yes,’ said Feromas. ‘His name is Damian Lofar. He is my great grandson, as it so happens.’

“Ya don’t say! Well, how about that! Lovely to make your acquaintance, my young friend!” Morgunov reached a hand through the bars.

Damian didn’t see much choice and decided to shake it.

Morgunov took the opportunity to yank the boy over to him, and his other hand found Damian’s face. “Hmm. Hmmmm...!”

“Agh--! W-what are you doing?” said Damian.

“Oh, nothing. Just checking something. Don’t mind me. Hmm. Yes. This skin certainly looks like your own. I suppose you’re not a jabberwock or a tomokooni, then. Hmm. Good. Yes, quite good.”