And after the time I was alloted with the money spent almost ran, I opened my eyes, took one last peek at the small crowd gathered. Just the usual, older women, spa days for them. Robes slammed back onto the body, the muscles on my own hidden as with the breasts on top, the arms, the legs, with soggy robes sticking to each. Must be somebody's favorite sight out there, and if so, please come and rescue me from my troubles!

Everything proved more difficult with only one arm to fancy it with, putting on clothes done with the help of legs, a balancing job, the mouth to hold onto what else. And finally, I was able to leave, leaving wet foottracks, but not before brushing shoulders with somebody, looking to the side, and stopping her with the one arm I had to do it with.

Mocha Ray must've been given some special permission to be able to come here, much less come out of the cavernous of the temple jobs in the first place. She gave me the warmest of smiles, and asked me how healing was. And so, I told her the longest story of the giant squid, maybe hyping myself up a bit, a white lie thrown in to make the riddance of my right claw sound more heroic and to entertaim the lady.

And with that, with her usual quietness and inability to talk about her own private life, she wished me the usual goodbyes, but not before dropping what was probably not supposed to be given to me yet. A hint as to the vagueness of earlier -- that soon, my gift would be bestowed. The prosthetic whispered along. Must be something very, very special if she knew! And with that, ways parted again, the slamming of my legs to run out and back before it became cold and truly unbearable to still have soggy dough as loud as if I was still fighting that squid.