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The Park, Most of Sunday

Had the carnival changed? Retreated? No, but perhaps it had filled up even worse over the past twenty-four hours or so.

The look on that mustached man's face certainly exuded a certain amount of triumph as the lights went on again early on Sunday morning. He stabbed the ground with his cane and watched; if experience counted for anything, then there would be yet more pouring into his carnival today.

The feeding was good, here.

That scent of cotton candy rolled over the island once more, and the carnival's music touched what it could not.

It's a new day, Fandom. Come, enjoy it.

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"Stop it, stop it! That's not my name!" Though he sounded a little less sure of that now. He was still trying to struggle and kept pushing and pulling at her, squirming and twisting to get free of the embrace. "No!"

"Yes it is," Isabelle replied, lowering her voice to a murmur now. Still holding him tightly. "Jon, and Flick, and puppy." All of them. "That's all you. Baby."

Flick made a few noises of protest, pushed hard at her one last time before everything seemed to just sap right out of him without warning.

He sagged heavily in her arms, winded and actually holding onto her now that he could actually use his arms again.

Well, that was a change. She loosened her hold a little, just to switch her embrace into something that offered more support and less just keeping him from escaping. She had the feeling there was no need for the latter anymore.

"Jon?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," he said shakily. "Isabelle? Where am I?"

He blinked a few times and looked around, letting some of those memories come back to him.

"Oh. Dammit." He knew where he was now and what he'd done.

"You got possessed." She was very professional about it. Even if she was also rubbing her hand against his back. "It wasn't your fault."

"Stupid," Flick mumbled at himself. "God, I am so stupid."

He closed his eyes again.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Isabelle repeated quietly. Now she was actively pulling him against her like she could make everything better by doing that.

Flick shuddered and shook his head.

"Did I hurt you?" He remembered what he'd done to her. "Are you hurt?"

Isabelle sighed and shook her head before trying to kiss the side of his.

"It was nothing compared to last week."

"But, I did hurt you," he mumbled, sighing and shaking his head. "I'm -- I'm sorry. I am."

"Please don't fixate on that," she told him, pulling back and trying to look at him. "I'm fine. And it wasn't you."

"I can remember it, though," he said, squeezing his eyes shut and grimacing. "It's in my head."

"I know, baby." She pressed her forehead against his. "Come on, let me take you back to the dorms."

"Okay," Flick mumbled, nodding. "Yeah, okay. Let's go. Get me away from here."

"I can do that."

She gave his cheek a kiss, then pulled back, taking his hand. She was going to lead him away.

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The Park, Most of Sunday

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