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The rugged, determined Indie continued to pursue the Ark with a mixture of luck, resourcefulness, and a neverending supply of cheeky quips. The movie was moving steadily towards its climax as Indiana pulled out a rocket launcher and threatened to foil the Nazi's plans by blowing up the coveted artifact, when a loud "sneeeerrrrk" split the air. It sounded like a cross between an disgruntled dinosaur and an old-fashioned saw going to town on an oak log. Definitely not part of the original soundtrack. Further investigation would confirm that the noise had originated from Chert, who had lost his battle with the sandman somewhere between the German soldier's death-by-airplane-propeller and Indie's daring infiltration of the U-boat.

Consciousness came back to Chert slowly. The clinging black fog of his dreams gradually disappated and gave way to the harsh, artificial light of the entertainment room, and he became aware of the quiet complaints the muscles of his neck were broadcasting. Chert jerked his head forward with a startled snort and blinked owishly at his surroundings. The energetic orchestral score of the movie's title screen continued to loop while his mental processes sluggishly crept into motion like a steam engine that had just begun to pick up speed. Where was he? What time was it? Was the movie already over?

Chert slurred a few of the questions together ("Whurr movie time izzit?") and brought up a hand to rub the stale feeling out of his eyes. As he did so, he felt his fingertips brush against something soft, warm, and foreign. A glance downwards revealed that it was Antony, still curled up comfortably in his lap. The realization wandered around aimlessly in his head without making any successful connections. Still there. Antony. In his lap. His eyes trailed over the curves of her face, marveling at how serene they seemed in the gentle grip of sleep. Undoubtedly that would change as soon as she awakened, but-

The wandering thought clicked into place, lighting up his brain like a Christmas tree. Still there! Antony! In his lap! He stared down at her fixedly, as if she were a very rare and puzzling species of fish. How had she managed to end up there, again? And why was she still there? He shifted slightly as he glanced from side to side, unsure of what to do.

Antony's nuzzling motion caused Chert to mutter under his breath like an aggravated cockatiel, although it was difficult to be angry at someone who looked so peaceful and serene. But how in the world did she manage to keep him off-balance even when she was sleeping? He tried to remember the last time he'd sat curled up like this with anyone, and discovered a large, hazy wall of busy weekends and lates nights at home listening to old folk and blues records. Well, maybe lack of practice explained why it made him so uneasy. Johnny Cash had never tried to sleep in his lap.

Chert idly watched her slumber a little more before deciding he'd had enough peace and quiet for now. Very carefully, so as not to awaken her ahead of schedule, he leaned down closer to her ear. It was difficult to keep his lips from curling into a wide grin as he sat there with his fingertips resting poised mere centimeters above her shoulders. Then, without warning, he let loose a panicked cry. "Antony! The Nazis are coming!"

Chert reached out to catch her with a startled "oop!", barely securing her before she disappeared over the edge of the couch. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he suffered a halting fit a laughter, which had what could only be described as faint diabolical undertones.

The punch connected solidly, causing Chert to wince visibly but failing to banish his smile. Pain mixed together with his laugh to create a deep chuckle- something about her sincere indignation intensified his mirth, and although he attempted to stop chortling like a lunatic with a death-wish, he wasn't very successful.

In a knee-jerk reaction, Chert tried to protest, "I don't snore!" but Antony's fingers found his sides before he could finish the sentence. Speech and laughter gave way to a loud yelp- argh, make it stop, get away, don't do that!- and Chert's arms flew out reflexively to push his tormentor away. What a ruthless opponent!

"Stop! Was just- joke!" he choked breathlessly while his hands worked madly to block her fingers. Antony's vicious tickle-attack wasn't causing him to laugh, persay, but it was eliciting all sorts of undignified snorts, gasps, and wheezes. "You'll- pay- forthis!"