Seymour tried not to scowl. “Cute?”
“Well, sometimes the art is pretty, but they’re not much more than a passing amusement. You shouldn’t worry so.”
“Wait, they’re not actually, like, magical?”
Zolrya chuckled. “Can you catch starlight in a jar? Can you measure the joy in a baby’s laugh with a ruler, hmm? What about painting the sound of absolute silence?”
Seymour stared.
“Think of using those silly cards as trying to put your ear up to a door when there’s a fantastic party happening just on the other side of it. Maybe you’ll catch a laugh or two, but do you really know why they’re laughing? Perhaps there’s some grunting, but is that a man trying to dance or getting a blowjob under a table, hoping his wife does not notice? Finding meaning in anything is easy, especially if you’re already looking for it.”
“So.” Seymour tried to digest all of that. “You’re saying it’s bullshit.”
“I’m saying it’s the wrong tool.” Zolyra stroked the side of Seymour’s face. “You wouldn’t try to shave with a fish, would you?”
“Okay, fair. But what are the right tools then?”
Zolrya dipped his last fry into his Frosty, smiling smugly as he swirled it around. “I’m afraid such magic eludes mortals.”
“Not even one of them talking skulls?”
“Oh!” Zolrya gasped in delight. “You continue to impress me. Yes, a talking skull can be worth its weight in gold.”
“Okay, ’cause I know?—”
“Unless they’ve gone insane. Which is very likely.”
“What?”
“Imagine the state of your mind if you were only a head for hundreds and thousands of years.” Zolrya grimaced. “Ugh. And no sex? No orgasms? Nonothing?”
“That does sound pretty awful,” Seymour agreed, allowing himself a quick smirk over at Sariel.
Sariel offered only a tiny smile in return.
Yeah, something was definitely up.
“There!” Zolrya beamed. “Are you feeling better now?”
“Eh?” Seymour hadn’t been paying attention, and he had no idea what Zolrya was talking about. He didn’t understand a lot of what Zolrya said anyway, but he quickly tried to catch back up. “Oh! Yeah. Better. Much better.”
“But not your best?”
“I’ve had better days, that’s for sure.”
“You’re dirty, your shirt is covered in blood, and you smell.”
“Hey, now! I—” Seymour’s clothing had changed.
What the fuck?
He was now wearing a green plaid collared shirt, a dark brown vest, and a fresh pair of jeans. The top few buttons of hisshirt were undone, and he was very certain that Zolrya had also changed his underwear.
Immediately, he checked his pockets.
Inro.
Wallet.
