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Wisp often slept over at Christian's house; Missy was practically her second mother, after all, the Deakon-Darnell households were joined in unholy matrimony. She loved Chris' room. Sometimes she and Rory both stayed over, and Wisp loved that as well.

And usually she knew better than to wake up Christian other than at pre-described wake-up times (ie, breakfast), but that night, he was roused from his slumber by an insistent jogging of his elbow. The sight when he awoke was Wisp fully dressed: black jeans, colourful sweater, hair pulled back in (for Wisp) a demure bun. For some reason, she had smeared two dark lines below her eyes, a bit like a psychedelic Vietnam GI. "Wake up," she whispered. "We're going."

Wisp promptly swung up on the bed and joggled his elbow again. It was slightly difficult, as it was one hell of an elbow. "Chris," she hissed, "this is important. I know you don't like waking up, but this is really really really important."

His teddy bear poked him viciously in the ribs. "Chris," was hissed a little louder. "Chris, I am not your teddy bear. Wake up. I'll draw glasses on your face. Chris!" Struck by inspiration: "Rory's on fire! Terrorist fire!"

"I'm sorry, I lied," she whispered back, without a whole lot of traces of contriteness. "You wouldn't wake up."

It was so cute how he got all worried whenever something was happening to Rory. Wisp's mind filed that away for later use: Chris and Rory, as a Chris-and-Rory, was kind of coming to fruition in her mind. "Put your pants on, we're going!"

"I guess we could get pizza," said Wisp thoughtfully, "and in that case, let's get a supreme pizza with half pineapple because I know you don't eat pineapple, but the other half can have olives because you know I don't eat olives."

The real purpose of the journey was only revealed outside, safely out through the window and across the lawn and out into the street, Wisp dancing from foot to foot when the excitement got too much. When they were out in the streetlights, she blurted happily: "We're going on patrol!"

"But we eat loads of fish at your house." Wisp considered this: "But I don't think we've ever had anything else, though. I guess fish doesn't count as meat if you think about it. Though you're still eating the poor little fishes. That's so weird! You are a vegetarian. Does that mean we should only get pepperoni on my half?"

For good luck, she added: "And we're not patrolling at the pizza plate. I don't think there are any perps at the pizza place." (New word!)

"Yeah," said Wisp doubtfully: she ate meat at home, and she was starting to feel a little sorry for all the cows. Then again. "We'll get that. After we make a civilian arrest."

"Christian, you are not taking this seriously."

An annoyed Wisp was, unfortunately, always pretty hilarious: she puffed out her cheeks and, as she was a sweet-looking little blonde girl with big blue eyes, looked like an annoyed puppydog. She stomped off into the darkness, beckoning him to go with her with a sharp jab of her finger into the middle distance before going off herself.

The streets were dark. As the suburbs lengthened into the more city-areas, as it was a weeknight it was still all abandoned, slightly creepy as well. Happy at the adrenaline rush, at least, Wisp stuck her hands in her pockets and beamed, having forgotten her intiial irritation at Christian. "This is cool," she said.