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The battle to put the frog-monster down was a long one, and neither attractive nor flattering to Dionysia: by the end of it, he was tired, panting for breath, and absolutely covered with frog goo. This seemed particularly unfair when the frog, post-death, opted to dissolve directly into thin air, but did not take the goo with it.

Exhausted from an endless repetition of hitting the monster with his fists, he found the one thing it had left behind -- the little glowing gem it had stolen from the unconscious Yvette. It seemed to be magical too: when he picked it up, it floated ever-so-slightly above his palm.

He brought it back to her -- cleaned up with a clean end of one of the long scarves of his . . . his outfit, he guessed. Perhaps it would give her some comfort when she woke.

"Miss?" he said, lifting her gently to pull into his arms. He folded the little crystal under her hand and rested her hand comfortably against her chest as he pulled her in protectively close. "Miss, it's alright -- you're safe now, kiddo." Dionysia gave her a gentle nudge to hopefully urge her awake.

Dionysia kept his voice low, not wanting to startle her right as she woke up. "Shhh, it's alright -- just take it easy for a minute, okay? You're still at the bus stop. You're safe now." He propped her up a bit in his arms so she could get her bearings, see the surroundings somewhat. "You just passed out for a little while when we saw that frog monster, that's all. It's okay -- I got rid of it."

He held her loosely, worried she'd feel suffocated or trapped if his hold was too secure. "What's your name, kiddo? I can call somebody to come pick you up -- or an ambulance, if you want."

The young girl's reaction might've struck Dionysia as odd, if he hadn't automatically interpreted it as groggy confusion. He did, though -- or maybe a concussion. That was the more worrying option. He'd have to call her a cab, at the very least.

"Not to worry," he said calmly, putting on a cheerful face to hopefully lift her spirits. "No bartenders were harmed in the making of this rescue. I'm going to call a taxi, okay? My treat. You can take it home or to the hospital -- whatever you're comfortable with."

Dionysia desperately wanted to ask her more. He wanted to know what she meant by 'this sort of thing' -- had this happened to her often? Was she plagued by frogs everywhere she went? Frequently attacked? Did she know what had happened to him, or why?

None of these, though, were appropriate questions at the time. What mattered was that she needed to go to the ER and get looked at, maybe have hot cocoa. She was still just a kid who needed a pudding cup, in his opinion. And now she was scared -- crying.

"Shhhh, it's okay," he soothed, squeezing her ever-so-gently in a faint hug, using his other hand to tuck the hair out of her face. "Take a deep breath. You're safe again."

He felt around on the ground and managed to retrieve his nearby cell phone, fallen haphazardly in the grass along with his other strewn belongings. He found a cab service app and put in a remote order. When the confirmation text came through, he set the phone down and said, "It's lovely to meet you, Yvette. Dionysia Page of the Cosmos, at your service. Milady's chariot is on its way even now."

He gave another smile intended to try and cheer her up. "Anyway, it's not so bad. I think all this goop is moisturizing my skin a little. Would you tell me if I had a slime moustache?"

"Well, that's a relief, then, facial hair does nothing for me," Dionysia said, idly taking stock of the area. The cab reservation had said to expect one within five minutes -- evidently there were several that made circuits in this area, or he'd just had lucky timing. "Maybe you, though!" he teased, selecting a long strand of her hair with his thumb and forefinger, and pulling it up to position the end of it across her upper lip in mockery of a moustache. "You could grow a moustache like the Monopoly guy. He's got one, I'm pretty sure, one of those curly ones that looks like it's made out of really fancy commas.

"What do you say," he asked, "you want to grow a moustache, make all your friends jealous?"

"If you must," Dionysia said with exaggerated disappointment, putting the little lock of hair back in place and letting go. He helped Yvette to her feet and into the cab, not wanting to delay her trip to the hospital. If she had a concussion, or was in shock, she should get care as soon as possible.

"You're most welcome. It was lovely meeting you, Yvette. Take care of yourself, okay?"

He gave instructions to the cab driver to get the young girl to the nearest hospital, then tapped his hand on the roof to signal he was ready for them to depart. If the cabbie thought anything strange of his outfit, or of the frog goo covering it, he didn't let on. Modern professionalism for you.

Dionysia looked back at the bus stop, now empty of everything but Eli's possessions and the wreckage of a monster battle. He had a lot to process.

[fin.]