Tink, with more social awareness than she was normally inclined towards given how much awkwardness she'd already endured, quickly diverted the subject.
"I'll go first, then. And then you can go and then you can let Reese go," she added, gently and nervously. She was not good at asserting herself. Dominance does not come naturally to a sheep.
She squeezed the ghost's hand reassuringly, then let go to dive into her pockets and sort through the things there until she found a bottlecap, which she pitched in the accepted form, bounding in to retrieve it. Watching her would be almost
exactly like watching a lamb, had either of them ever had any reason to see a lamb: wobbling and uncertain but with a certain irrepressible springiness that was youthful and cheery. She managed, somehow, to not fall down, not even on the return trip, and she beamed at Lurks apologetically.
"I expect," she said, "I'll fall down next time." She said this as though reassuring him of its inevitability, as if promising to uphold a contract.
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