I suppose that I really shouldn’t say that she stopped time, per se. If she had, we wouldn’t have seen anything because if time stops, so does light. But everything else was going along so slowly that for all intents and purposes, time was stopped. It goes like this:

We were in London. Zoe’s always wanted to go there and who was I to decline her when she bullied me int—er, suggested that we go? Anyways, we were in some big public square when Zoe decided that she wanted a coffee. Obligingly, I went into the coffeeshop and procured one for her, and bought one for myself while I was at it. Her favorite combination always took a minute or two, and when I emerged she was getting into it with some dumb teenager.

I knew that this couldn’t have ended well, so I went over to her just as the youth insulted her.

Zoe got pissed.

She let out a scream second only in epicness to one of Sean Schemmel’s and latched onto my hand in her customary angry vice grip.

And then there was a flash of blue.