Spiller couldn’t believe his ears. Was this human bean really so ignorant that it couldn’t understand the ways of the world? He had lost his memory, grown up in the wild, and he still understood how things worked. “I’m a Borrower. You’re a Bean. Beans kill Borrowers. So let’s ‘ave a go,” he said plainly.
He raised his hands in a boxing gesture to show what he meant, though clearly the two couldn’t actually throw punches at one another. When the bean started to show signs of understanding he’d reach for his nail scissor rather than using his fists.
He was so certain he’d figured it all out now. The brown jar wasn’t poison, that much was clear, but it was a trap. Like a mouse trap with cheese for bait or glue paper to catch bugs. It had weakened him, slowing his reflexes and making him light-headed so that he couldn’t get away if a bean happened upon the scene. Obviously, he thought, it had been designed as a way to make ‘pests’ like him easier to squish. How stupid could he be, he wondered, falling for a trick like that? Normally it was he who laid the traps and caught the mice, but now the tables had turned.
At least this human seemed oblivious to her purpose. Maybe he could convince her to let him go, rather than killing him. Or, if she chose to fight, there was still the slight chance he’d win. He did have the advantage of a weapon, however small. “Fight me or let me go. Your choice.”
Bean? Bean? Did he just call her a bean?
“What?” Joan took a step back, standing up, kind of taken aback by the word ‘kill’ used by the little human. He used it so lightly. Deaths were subtly becoming more rampant around the Glade, but Harriet and Sonya were trying to keep the news low, trying to avoid chaos and panic. The girls in the Glade weren’t easily fear-stricken, but the deaths that were happening were something that the two leaders of the group thought to be something that should be kept confidential from everyone.
What did he call himself?
“Wh-what are you?” She shook her head, her hands moving as if swatting away a bunch of flies as she said, “Fight? What? Wha╼ ”
Her eyes squinted, yet again, at the little human. For a moment, Joan wanted him to disappear. She felt like he was just messing with her head. But wasn’t she over with that conversation with herself?
“Okay,” She finally decided, turning around to look at the door of the hut. How come no one else had come in? For the past hour? Joan found herself looking back at the small bean╼ human. She didn’t really remember the term he used.
“Okay╼”, Joan repeated, “╼I’m not going to fight you...” She struggled to find the word to refer to him, “...bean?” She stopped talking, because she didn’t really know what else she could say. “I╼” Her head shook for two reluctant shakes, “What are you?”
