I’m not sure what a protees or a fanz are. Maybe they’re in the guy. In any case, she seems to think one or both of them are ruptured. I guess I hit her harder than I thought.

I look at her long and hard, trying to figure this crazy dame out. She returns the gaze intently. An idea starts to bubble.

“Where is the Betty Newer…um, Butt Nore…”

“La Bete Noir,” she coos, “It means Black Beast in the French, and it is somewhere safe.”

Here’s where the idea really takes form, and honestly I don’t know yet if it’s good or bad yet, “Can you take me to it?” She hesitates, so I sweeten the deal, “Look, you take me to the…look, I’m just going to call it the Black Betty, okay? You take me to the Black Betty, and I’ll see that you’re, you know, taken care of,” and I gesture to her stomach and lower and stuff.

She perks right up, hopping to her feet so fast I almost plug her right there from being startled.

“Liebchen, I will take you whereever you like to go.”

Good, bad, or crazy, here goes nothing.