Duke had the spoon in its mouth, ice cream still melting against its tongue, standing at the opening of its bunk- that little cubby of a place it has learned to love, decorate with stickers and glued up action figures and a couple teeth- it had great taste and had made the coffin of a sleeping place a home. And in the center of it, like a shrine, it has placed Sasha, a bear of a man with the soul of a very gullible kitten. And here is where it finds him. Right where it left him and his broken leg except for-
"Hey babe?" It asks around the spoon.
And he responds with a lazy "What"
"Is that my bra?"
"Is that what that thing is?" he looks down at himself and the cast of his leg, and the jury rigged job he's bad of Duke's one and only padded bra hanging from the ceiling to keep his leg elevated.
"Yeah I mean- I don't have tits anymore that's fine."