Scrapyard

Rabbithole

“Baxter!” Pixy has taken the key out of its hiding place, and entered the Hope Diamond Diner, which she now bursts into in a flurry “What the hell is going on?”

She can’t see him. The diner is empty, unilluminated, and silent - the only movement coming from the dust Pixy disrupted with her sudden entrance flitting through the air and catching in the sunlight streaming through the shutters. Despite this, Pixy knows he’s here.

“Will you please come out of your little cubby hole and tell me why I’m getting frantic emails from your dad?"

Dust Bunnies

“Hey, Bax… how you doing down there?” Pixy, sitting in a booth at the Hope Diamond Diner, bends underneath the table just enough to look at Baxter, who is curled up underneath it, wet-eyed, on the floor.

“Been better. Definitely - Definitely been better. I’ve definitely been better,” his voice is a choked, rambling warble, and his lip quivers pathetically.

“Do you want to stop acting like a dust bunny and come sit with me?” Pixy reaches underneath the table, and gestures for Baxter to take her hand, but her tearfully ignores her, turning his head away and tossing shaggy blond hair into his reddened face.

“No. Dust bunny time…” his legs draw tighter to his chest.

“Okay. Well. I’m coming down too,” Pixy sighs, though she maintains a cheerful tone, and climbs underneath the booth to sit next to Baxter, who jolts away slightly “Now we are *both* dust bunnies. So what’s happening under here, march hare? You sounded like you were in a good mood when we called, ‘bout an hour ago, but I show up to bring you home and you’re all soggy!”