Title: Charades 6/24
Author: Magpie and Wolfling
Email: magpie@moracle.co.uk and wolfling@sympatico.ca
Show: Buffy
Rating: NC-17
Category: angst, hurt/comfort
Warnings: spoilers up to the end of Chosen
Pairings: Giles/Ethan
Series: Of Old Mystics, sequel to Sleight of Hand
Summary: Searching for meaning in the signs and symbols of life.

Author Notes: Many thanks to Mad Poetess and Wesleysgirl for betaing :) This is the third story in the Of Old Mystics series; previous stories in the series can be found
http://www.myarseisnotpansy.co.uk/piedm/mystics.html.

The door shut behind Thomas with a dull clunk. He'd got some sort of family event on tomorrow and so, the big ritual done successfully, he'd left. He'd been sulking somewhat and casting possessive looks that Ripper hadn't failed to notice towards Deirdre, whose tendency not to respect what Thom considered to be their 'relationship' was infamous.

Randall was passed out in one corner -- man never could hold his magic -- and Phil was getting rapidly off his head in another corner, hogging the bong and giggling to himself. Which left Ethan, who was lounging on cushions close by, looking like some kind of harem sex slave in his cream silk blouson, tight white jeans and rather too much gold jewellery for Ripper's taste. And Deirdre, who'd sat herself at Ethan's feet and was trying to persuade him to share a tab with her.

As Ripper finished rolling the joint he'd been working on, Ethan looked lazily over at him. "Feel like singing?"

Ripper considered. "I could be persuaded," he finally said. "What are you going to give me if I do?"

Grinning, Ethan ran his tongue around his lower lip salaciously. "Oh, I'm sure I can think of something." Suddenly, he frowned and looked down. Deirdre appeared to be running her long and glittery fingernails over the top of one of Ethan's bare feet.

Ripper was careful to hide his grin. Deirdre was very touchy-feely with all of them, but Ethan never took it well. Addressing Ethan's question, he held up the joint he'd just made and said, "Let me finish this first and then I'll see what I can do." With a deft spark of magic, he lit the thing and pulled the pungent smoke into his lungs.

"You could share that, you know," Ethan pointed out, pulling his feet up under him.

"Yeah, Ripper, don't bogart," Deirdre drawled. "Bring that over here so we can all have some. 'S bad enough Phil's got the hubble-bubble to himself." She pulled herself up to her knees, straightening her very short skirt down over the tops of her sparkling nylon-clad thighs. Then, to Ethan's obvious dismay, she clambered onto the cushions beside him.

Ethan cast Ripper a beseeching 'rescue me' look.

It was difficult, but Ripper swallowed his laughter as best he could. "There's plenty of black, fags and skins left; you can make your own," he said, taking another drag, then blowing out smoke rings.

Obviously seeing a chance to escape, Ethan started to roll off the cushions, heading for the dope tin. But Deirdre's hand descended like a clamp upon his leg, and while Ethan stared at it as if it were some kind of disgusting insect, Deirdre said, "Chuck us the gear then, Ripper. You're not too shagged out by the ritual to lift an arm, I hope."

"The shagged out part comes later," Ripper said, tossing her the tin with a smile. "And so do I. Right, Ethan?"

Ethan gave him a sour look. The offending hand had been removed from his leg when Deirdre caught the tin, but it was placed back there now, while the other pushed the tin at him. "Here, Ethan. You make it. I can't roll a bloody thing with these nails."

Another hard look was directed Ripper's way before Ethan took the tin and began on a spliff of his normal impractical proportions. He said not a word.

Deirdre moved up to snag her vaunted nails in Ethan's curls. "You've got such gorgeous hair. Isn't fair, you know. Blokes always get the best hair and eyelashes to die for. I mean, you don't even need that mascara you've got on."

"I haven't," Ethan told her brusquely, unrolling several B&H to get at the tobacco within, "got any on."

Despite his best efforts, a giggle escaped Ripper. He tried to cover it up by coughing.

"That stuff's going to your head quick," Deirdre remarked. "Must be good."

Holding the lighter on to soften the edge of the small block of hash, Ethan commented acidly, "Yes. Ripper's a real lightweight. You can't rely on him at all."

Ripper lay back on the floor, turning his head to continue watching his lover and Deirdre together. "I'm just enjoying myself, is all. The night's still young, we're with good friends, the magic went swimmingly well, what else should we be doing other than basking in its afterglow?"

Other than a brief glare, he got no reply from Ethan. Deirdre, however, said, "I can think of some things we can do." She ran her nail around the edge of Ethan's ear, where Ripper knew his lover was very sensitive. Ethan twitched.

He was still crumbling up black resin into his line of tobacco; apparently wanting something very strong.

Giving in to an evil impulse, Ripper grinned at Deirdre and asked, "Care to elaborate, sweetheart?"

Grinning back at him, Deirdre obliged. "You see, Ripper," she told him. "You don't share enough. You're keeping that joint to yourself, just like you keep Ethan to yourself. And that's plain wrong. Something as pretty as this should be public property." She ran her fingers around Ethan's neck and down over his upper chest where his half-opened shirt revealed it. "Like the National Trust."

Ethan's face was a mask of complete horror as he froze in his joint making activities. Deirdre had to be able to see that, so Ripper was forced to assume she was deliberately winding Ethan up, which was as much a part of her make up as seduction. "Do you," Ethan asked rather rigidly, "actually understand what 'gay' means?"

"You're the one, Ethan, who's always encouraging us to go beyond our boundaries, ignore labels and experiment," Deirdre replied, her hand sliding a bit further down Ethan's chest.

Ripper didn't even bother to try and hide his snickering this time. "She has a point, love."

"Have you ever even tried it with a woman?" she asked.

"I don't need to!" Ethan snapped, grabbing her wrist and removing her hand from inside his shirt. "If it hasn't got a cock, I'm not interested. Go and bother Phil; he's so gone, he'll let you do anything."

"Coward." Deirdre laughed, rubbing at her wrist once Ethan released her to stubbornly finish his joint. "I don't believe in gay, anyway. Or straight. I think everyone's bisexual, but most people are cowards and won't admit it."

"Then I'm a happy coward," he told her, inserting a roach and beginning the careful rolling process. "You're going to have to face it, dear. I've spurned the fish course and gone straight for the meat."

"Sorry, Deirdre," Ripper apologised between bouts of laughter. "Once Ethan makes his mind up, there's no shifting him. He's the most stubborn git I've ever met."

She laughed good-naturedly, not taking offence at all. "Maybe he'll change his mind after smoking that." She indicated the long thin spliff Ethan was still gently rolling. "He's depleted your stash by half."

Getting up, Ripper crossed the room and flopped down bonelessly on the cushions beside Ethan. "Going to smoke that whole thing?"

"No," Ethan said, sounding more than a little petulant. "I'm going to share it with Deirdre, so long as she vows not to touch me with her double-X chromosomes. You've had yours."

Ethan really was irresistible when he sulked, which was a good thing, Ripper thought, considering how much he did it. "And if I touch you with my XY chromosomes?" he asked, sliding his hand along the same path Deirdre's travelled earlier.

Ethan gave him an unreadable look from under hooded eyelids and wordlessly held out his spliff to be lit.

Deirdre, while she was keeping her own hands obediently off Ethan's body, snuggled close to the other side of him, her eyes watching Ripper's hand with great interest.

Ripper looked askance at Deirdre, as he brushed a finger of his free hand against the end of Ethan's joint, lighting it with a careless thought.

She gave him a cheeky grin. "What?"

"No."

"A girl can look, can't she?"

"Yeah, Ripper," Ethan told him with a smirk, suddenly seeming a lot more at ease now Ripper was beside him. "Let her watch. I could get into that." He took a long toke, then let his head loll back.

"No," Ripper repeated, deftly stealing the spliff from his lover to take a drag himself. Immediately things began to take on a sense of unreality.

Deirdre reached over Ethan, holding her hand out for the joint. "C'mon. You can at least share *that*."

Ethan giggled and turned his head to face Ripper. "Kiss me," he demanded.

"Pushy," Ripper said, handing Deirdre what she wanted.

While she engaged herself in serious inhalation, Ethan mouthed at Ripper, "Fuck me."

"Not now," Ripper growled back.

Deirdre was leaning heavily on Ethan, her attention still on the spliff. Ethan shifted so she was leaning more on his back and lifted one of his fingers to his mouth. He licked it lasciviously before sliding it slickly in and out of his sealed lips, his gaze never leaving Ripper's.

"That's not going to work." Rupert was pleased at how firm he sounded, despite his body's reactions to the spectacle Ethan was putting on.

Chuckling, Ethan very slowly drew his finger out of his mouth, scraping it between his teeth, then kissing the tip. "Liar," he said, apparently confident in his seduction technique, then sat back. Deirdre immediately fell down onto his lap. Staring down at her tousled head with bemusement, Ethan stole the spliff back and inhaled deeply.

Ripper looked squirrelishly down at Deirdre. "Might be a bit strong for her."

Ethan grunted. He seemed to have a problem focusing for a moment or two after the joint left his lips, his head moving back and forth to compensate. "That, or it's the tab she took hitting home. But," he grinned at Ripper, "I make a damn good joint."

There was a noise from Ethan's lap, and they both watched as Deirdre's head moved. Ethan's expression became increasingly befuddled and incredulous.

"Please, sweetheart," he said. "Tell me you're not trying to do what it feels like you are."

Ripper stared for a moment, and when he realised what was happening, he threw back his head and laughed. "Gotta hand it to the old girl," he said between guffaws. "She doesn't give up easy."

"Rupert," Ethan pleaded, and the use of Ripper's proper name was significant. "*Do* something."

Still laughing, Ripper took pity on his lover and gently pulled Deirdre away from Ethan's lap. He took the joint from Ethan and handed it to her. "Here, darlin', put this in your mouth instead."

Ethan looked a little longingly at his spliff as Deirdre lifted it slowly to her mouth. There was a comfortable silence for a while, but then Ethan turned to Ripper. "Wanna go for a drive?"

Ripper narrowed his eyes, then held up his hand, complete with the archer's salute. "How many fingers?"

Ethan hung a bunch of car keys that he seemed to have appropriated from somewhere over the two fingers. "You're driving, dearheart."

"I am?" Somehow that didn't seem quite right.

Ethan crawled onto his hands and knees, grabbing the stash tin while he was down there, and then staggered to his feet. "Come on. The night is, I believe you said, young. And so are we." It didn't make much sense. Ripper suspected his lover was more than a little bit high.

"And that means I'm driving?" he asked, getting to his own feet, then waiting for the room to stop moving.

Ethan slipped his arm around Ripper's waist. "I drove last time," he said.

Ripper remembered. "You crashed last time."

Ethan giggled, leaning against him. "So let's go then."

Ripper looked back at where Deirdre half-reclined, staring at the smoke trailing up from the spliff with a serious expression of concentration. "Deirdre? You coming?" Randall was still out of it, and Phil seemed to be asleep so there was no point in asking them.

Deirdre smiled and held her arms out to be helped up. "Bag of chips would be nice," she slurred.

Ethan stepped over, but instead of taking her arm, he stole the dog end of the joint, sucking hard through the roach to get the inevitably bitter dregs.

"Hey..." Deirdre protested very slowly.

"I'd say you got more than your share of that already," Ripper told her, then shook the keys. "Coming?"

She struggled ungainly up, her long legs splaying out like a young foal's until she found her balance on her heels. "Gentlemen both of you," she muttered sarcastically.

Ethan giggled, looking like he might be about to slump back down again to the floor. "Gentlemen's gentlemen. Ladies be buggered." He paused, then spluttered with laughter. "No. That'd be the gentlemen again."

"Could be ladies," Ripper countered, leading the way out the door into the night. "Depends on the lady."

Ethan poked him hard in the side, although in fairness it was unlikely he'd meant the gesture to be so hard. "Hoy. No ladies for you. 'Less it's me in drag."

"Do you do that?" Deirdre asked, brightening a little.

"Not in public," Ripper said curtly. Not anymore at any rate. After that one time which had almost ended up with Ethan being beaten to death, Ripper had put his foot down. Dress-up was saved for the privacy of their flat.

Deirdre's mini was parked by the curb. The keys, of course, were for it. She didn't seem to realise that Ripper had them however, despite having looked straight at them, as she started with great deliberation to go through her clutch purse.

Well, if it kept her out of trouble... Ripper moved over to the driver's side and concentrated very hard at getting the key in the lock.

"My keys are gone," Deirdre announced, just as Ripper got the door open. "And my new lipstick." She looked over at Ripper and the open door. "Ah well, we can use yours."

Ethan, sprawled over the roof of the tiny car, giggled helplessly and slipped backwards, falling on his arse on the pavement.

Ripper wondered if his lover had really had only dope and beer tonight. "Good thing we're driving. Because your standing and walking is a bit dodgy right now." He folded himself up into the driver's seat, his knees feeling ridiculously high up. After spending a few moments wondering why the other two weren't getting in, he leant over and unlocked the other door.

Deirdre opened it, got into the passenger's seat, and then sat there staring out the windscreen. After a few moments she got out again. There was some swearing as she broke a nail trying to lift the seat up, and then she was wiggling her way into the back.

Another pause was followed by Ethan crawling up from the pavement into the passengers seat, where after quite a while, he finally got his legs arranged. He grinned stupidly at Ripper and gestured wildly with his hand, hitting the windscreen. "Forward, the Light Brigade! Charge for the guns!"

There was something that kept Ripper from starting the engine. He thought about it. Oh. Yes. "Ethan?"

"Yes?" his lover said with a bright smile.

"Can you shut the door?"

More giggles were followed by a shut door. A plaintive voice from the back said, "Here. My kohl pencil's gone too."

"You can borrow Ethan's," Ripper said, as he tried to put the key in the ignition -- and kept missing.

"Bugger it," he finally said, tossing the keys into the back seat and then twisting to the side and down to pull out the wires to hotwire the car instead.

The engine chugged into life, and Ethan tried another rousing call. "Onward agonistic hedonist soldiers!"

"Should you be able to pronounce those words when you're this stoned?" Ripper asked, as he put the car into gear and pulled away from the curb.

"Not stoned," Ethan said pleasantly. "Only had a few puffs."

"You just fell on your arse trying to stand and laugh at the same time."

"You've had more than me."

Ripper frowned. "That can't be right."

"You had a whole Ripper-joint to yourself, then some of the ultra-spliff."

"One hit!" he protested.

"Two," Ethan told him, counting it out on fingers he waved in front of Ripper's face. "Was two, wasn't it, Deird?" There was no answer from the back.

"Did she fall out?" Ripper asked. "Or is she dead?" He'd look himself, but he was supposed to be keeping an eye on the road. Which reminded him... "Ethan? Where are we going?"

"Docks," Ethan announced. "East India... or Limehouse. Let's go to Limehouse. Good vibe there. All those old opium dens." He made a big production of wriggling his long frame around on the seat to peer into the back. "Aww. Should I wake her with a kiss?"

Ripper snorted. "You do and she's liable to think you changed your mind about trying women."

"Maybe I should. Maybe she's right, and I won't know 'til I try. After all, 'm a man. Meant to like penetrating... things."

"You say 'things' like you're talking about an Ilsarkulan slime demon."

"Excellent description, Ripper," Ethan giggled. "Very erudite. Must say your brain's working very well considering how stoned *you* are." They were hitting the East End now, the houses smaller and closer packed, the general look one of smog-blackened bricks and run down narrow streets.

"Brain always works," Ripper grumbled, taking the next turn at extremely high speed and almost sending them careening off the road and into someone's front room, no doubt. Oh. Right. Brakes. He remembered to touch them on the next turn. "Stoned or not, I can always think."

Ethan had fallen on him during the first turn and didn't then move from leaning on Ripper's shoulder. The car was so tiny that the distance between them was very small anyway. "Bet I could make you not think," he said after a while, sounding sly.

Ripper could practically see the thoughts dancing in Ethan's head. "No."

"Not up to the challenge?" Ethan teased, "Ah, I knew you had your limits, Ripper, but still..."

"I told you. Not with a bloody audience."

"She's asleep. Out like a light with a dead bulb in a black out."

"She could wake up."

"Then we can stop."

Ripper snorted again. "You say that like I'd actually believe you."

He felt Ethan's hand slide up and down his thigh. "C'mon, Ripper. Even if she does wake up, what's she gonna see bar our backs? And she won't for an age anyhow. She's got three different drugs in her at least."

Another sharp turn, as Ripper decided at the last minute to take a longer route through backstreets to avoid the cop shop, spilled Ethan into his lap, or rather that small piece of his lap not covered by either steering wheel or dashboard.

"There's also the space question," Ripper pointed out as it occurred to him.

"This is hardly the Apollo mission," Ethan replied rather muffledly. There was a pause, then, "Only meant to use my hand." Nonetheless, there was definite nuzzling going on.

There was also the matter of the gearstick, which Ripper could no longer reach.

He considered that problem as he drove and did his best to ignore the nuzzling. "Ethan?"

"Mmm?" The nuzzling was starting to feel more like mouthing.

"You're lying over the gearstick."

"I know; it hurts. 'S Okay. You weren't changing gear anyway. That'd involve slowing down." Ethan appeared to be trying to undo Ripper's fly with his teeth.

"Is that going to work?" Ripper asked, curiosity overriding everything else for the moment.

Ethan's reply was so muffled as to be indistinguishable over the overworked engine noise and the rumble of the road.

"What was that?"

Suddenly there was the taint of magic in the air and warm breath on his belly. "Done it," Ethan said smugly.

So he had. Ripper debated whether he should be protesting or congratulating his lover. Finally he settled on, "That wasn't your hand."

"No room for hands," Ethan muttered, nuzzling the two sides of Ripper's jeans apart, then starting to lick and kiss at the bare skin revealed. Ethan's hands were, in fact, supporting him at the edge of Ripper's seat.

"Isn't your head...." Ethan nuzzled a particularly sensitive spot and Ripper trailed off for a moment, losing his train of thought. What had he been talking about? Ethan's head... Oh. Right. "Isn't your head bigger than your hand?"

Skidding wildly around another corner in order to avoid stalling -- due to still being in fourth gear -- Ripper twisted unavoidably in the seat before Ethan could reply. So when his lover did speak, it was to complain. "That hurt. You're a sodding awful driver, Ripper."

Whether it had really hurt Ethan or not, what it had also done was partially free Ripper's cock, a fact that quickly shut Ethan up when he noticed.

What Ethan did then quickly shut Ripper up as well -- if one didn't count the involuntary gasps and moans that rumbled in his chest.

They were in Limehouse now, bombing down Narrow Street parallel with the Thames. Lazy pedestrians who were using the road as a pavement jumped out of the way in a hurry as Ripper tried out Deirdre's ridiculous bloody horn.

Ethan had Ripper's cock in his mouth now and was sucking and using his tongue as if trying to dissolve a lolly in record time.

It was, needless to say, very distracting, and Ripper had all he could do to remember that he was driving and had to keep his eyes on the road. As well as doing those other little things like steering. Luckily, he didn't need to steer much longer, although what came next was going to be tricky. "Ethan," he said, trying to get his lover's attention.

"Mmm?" The noise vibrated pleasantly.

"I need your attention." Ripper paused. "Up here." Ethan made an inattentive noise and sucked harder. Ripper reckoned he had about thirty seconds before disaster hit, or rather before they hit disaster. "Ethan, would you stop fucking about and throw the delocking spell at the gate's lock before we run into it?"

Ethan's head moved up in a hurry. "Fu... Reclude!"

Ripper saw the heavy padlock drop to the ground a bare moment before the mini smashed into the chainlink fence. The gates flew open, and the mini skidded through, barrelled across the wooden planks and screeched to halt at the edge of the wharf.

Ripper leaned his head against the steering wheel and tried to catch his breath. "That was too bloody close." He felt suddenly, distressingly, sober.

"You've gone all soft," Ethan complained, apparently completely unfazed by the near death experience. His hand moved listlessly in Ripper's lap.

"Sure you can recto... rectit... rectify that," said Deirdre's voice from the back. "And owwww."

Ripper whipped his head around to peer into the back seat. "How long have you been awake?"

Deirdre seemed to have fallen off the backseat during the excitement. Pulling herself up, she leant forward between the two seats and smirked down at Ripper's groin. "Long enough."

He was entirely too sober to be dealing with this. "Let's have the tin," he said to Ethan, holding out a hand to his lover.

Ethan stared at his hand for a few seconds, then understanding dawned. "Oh. Tin." He began wriggling around on his seat until he could stick his arse out at Ripper. The tin was outlined within one pocket of the tight white jeans.

Deirdre purred and reached over to stroke the proffered portion of anatomy. Ripper slapped her hand away as he reached for the tin. "We've had this discussion already."

"Yes, keep your grubby mitts off, Deird," Ethan said, squirming back round on his seat. "Unless..."

"Unless?" she asked, hanging between their chairs. Ethan just grinned. Very wickedly.

"Do I even want to know?" Ripper asked, opening the tin and digging along until he found the sachet of blue-grey powder that they'd been hoarding. Now seemed as good a time as any to use it.

"Well, you know that big book I got the other day?" Ethan replied. "From the bloke in Portobello?"

"The one you've been chortling over ever since?" Carefully taking a pinch of the powder, Ripper put it under his tongue, letting it dissolve. He closed his eyes as a feeling of warmth immediately went through his body, followed by a pleasurable tingling along every nerve ending. Oh yes, that was *much* better.

"That's the one," Ethan was saying. "There's a sex change spell. Right next to the magic carpet enchantment. Temporary. Want a willie, Deird?"

"Ok," she agreed. "So long as you get tits." As Ethan giggled helplessly, Deirdre tried to take the tin from Ripper.

Ripper growled and pulled it away from her. Then his thoughts caught up to the conversation, and he looked at Ethan, trying to imagine him with tits. "Could be interesting."

"What the hell do I want with two useless lumps of saggy fat?" Ethan asked, trying to look outraged by the idea, but still laughing too much. His eyes fell to the tin. "Feed us a pinch, Ripper?"

"I dunno -- think I'd rather fancy you as a woman." Obligingly, Ripper measured out another pinch then leant over towards Ethan. "Open up."

After a quick scowl, Ethan opened his mouth and lifted his tongue so that Ripper could drop the powder inside. As Ripper sat back again, he watched Ethan's pupils retract rapidly to pinpricks, his lover swaying in the seat, a happy gormless grin on his face.

"So what do we need to get to do this spell then?" Deirdre asked, still looking hopefully towards the tin.

There was one thing that Ripper thought he needed to get clear. "I don't share."

Just about focusing, Ethan patted Ripper's leg and slurred, "Yes, Deird. I'm his an' the stash is his. Quite simple." His hand moved up to where Ripper's jeans were still open and started to play. "Need a load of 'spensive stuff for that spell. And to B 'n' E the British Museum. Could do the magic carpet one though."

Ripper shifted as much as he could in the seat, making it easier for Ethan to touch him. Now that they weren't actually moving he could concentrate fully on that touch. "You going to make me fly?" he asked, giggling at his own pun.

"Nah," Ethan said, and tried to move closer, but Deirdre's head was in the way. He stared down at it, confused. "Could make the car fly. We could levi... levi'ate over to Southwark."

"Like that car," Deirdre asserted, suddenly excited. "In the film."

"There's a film?" Ripper peered blearily out the window in case he'd missed a billboard somewhere.

"She means Shitty Shitty Bang Bang," Ethan told him. "Remember? Was on the telly an' she got all weepy."

"Chitty Chitty," Deirdre corrected crossly.

Ripper frowned and tried to remember. "You mean that one with the car and that American git who mangled a British accent in that movie with the bird with the umbrella?"

They both blinked at him, their expressions blank. Ethan then shrugged and started doing something wonderful with his fingers, and Deirdre went back to watching, although she said, "We going to do it then?"

Ethan's fingers were very distracting. "He is doing it," Ripper pointed out.

"I want to fly," Deirdre demanded, her voice dreamy. Ripper imagined Deirdre with a giant set of wings and started giggling.

Ethan was grinning at him. "Shall we do it, Ripper? Take off across the river?"

Ripper glanced out at the Thames, then back at his grinning lover. The night seemed full of magic, and possibility seemed to churn in the air around them. He grinned back. "Hey diddle diddle, the car jumped over the moon."

Ethan leant back in his seat. "Pretty sure I can remember it... all verbals. So easy." His grin grew larger still. "You two might want to clunk-click."

Ripper missed Ethan's hand around his cock already, but could see how it might be a good idea for him to be zipped and fastened when flying. Or at least taking off. With that in mind, he fastened and clicked, making sure everything was in the upright position.

Ethan suddenly seemed a lot more clear-headed, at least in his speech. "We'll need a run up. Back up as far as you can go and rev the engine."

"Right." Ripper gunned the engine, backing the car up at full speed to the edge of the fence. "Ready?"

"When I drop my hand," Ethan told him, raising it. He began to mumble in something that sounded a lot like Arabic... but wasn't.

Deirdre bounced up and down in the back, very excited. "We're going to fly! I can't believe it!"

Ethan's chanting went on a fair time while Ripper continued to rev. Then suddenly, Ethan's hand dropped

Ripper grinned and stomped on the accelerator.

NEXT