Hearing the bells of the shop, Pillbug raises his head over the quill, possibly trying to see whether the diminutive creature who just entered is one of his halfling associates or -a shiver grips his heart- a gnome. As it turns out, it was something even more disruptive: a little girl. Now what is she doing here? Maybe her parents need something?
Hearing her speak, he blinks, his jaw slacking. I must have misheard he hopes, but Tarketh, appearing just behind, reinforces the statement, only adding to his bewilderment. Placing down the quill carefully, the fat alchemist rubs the bridge of his nose, trying to place in his tidy, orderly world-view the two avatars of surrealism who just waltzed inside his nice shop.
"That word... I don't think it means what you think it means."
James was executing his plan to look in the windows when Sammy dropped her ******** bomb. Desperately holding his breath he clutched his sides, then lost the battle and fell to the ground in a fit of the giggles.
"Then what does it mean mister. People give us funny looks, so we cant really know what ********* means at all. Now you tell us it means something else. Explain, if you would be so kind?"
Manners were very important. So he was told. And he knew well enough to learn these things if he wanted to grow up to be like the stories he heard about his grandfather
"It's a- I mean- Well, it's a swearword! Quite a nasty one, frankly! Not one a girl should be using... Wait, why are you here in my shop?"
As the plan starts to come undone, James finally starts to get his giggles back under control. Standing up he tries to peek in the windows for real.
Tark steps forward, his chin raised in defiance. "If it's a swearword, why are you grown-ups sayin' it in front of us? Huh? 'Sides, we're here lookin' for something. That's what your store is here for, right?"
"Because... why are you asking me? This store sells potions! not explanations! Are you looking for a potion? Then let's see the color of your money! Are you looking for something else, you won't find it!"
"If you're looking for something else, you won't find it!" Tarketh repeats the statement, his tone mocking and juvenile. He sticks his tongue out. "How do you know that? We're looking for a rat-man, not an explanation! You seen him?"
Ruuki looks from Tarketh to the one on the other end of his brashness. He really hopes this wont get them all into trouble
John flips over an old stool, and carefully balances on it in an attempt to peak through the high window.
"There's no ratmen here! Go to the circus if you want to see freaks, I sell potions!"
Sammy pouts as adorably as she can muster. "Please Mr. Pillbug, are you sure you don't know where the ratman is? We're supposed to find him, it's very important."
"In for a penny..."James thinks, wondering what the other half of the phrase is, and does his best to jimmy open the window and clamber in - quietly.
"Why would a ratman be here? I'm not a druid, I'm a potionmaker! Are you buying something, or just wasting my time?"
As Pillbug is distracted, James manages to sneak inside, the counter covering him. The stairs leading to the basement are just a few steps away, candlelight seeping under the door.
Quietly, quietly James sneaks down the stairs.
At the bottom of the stairs lies a rather flimsy wooden door, and a rather unpleasant smell clouds the air, acrid chemicals mixed to burnt herbs and... sewage? The door is shut, likely locked, and the hinges look like they would creak loudly if opened, but James finds a crack in the wood and presses his eye to it.
Inside, he finally sees what's likely Rakheet, a rat as tall as his sister. He's sitting at a bench, grinding something in a mortar and pestle and whistling between himself.
James grins exuberantly - and stops as he realises that now he needs to make his way out. Step by step he heads up the stairs abd back towards the window. 'This was much easier when I was little' he thinks regretfully.
not sure if need new rolls. Redoing in case.
"I en't got any money for potions, so I s'pose I'm just here to waste your time!" Tarketh sticks his tongue out, giggling as Orvis the mongoose scampers up onto his shoulder.
Sam moves behind the counter, hidden from Pillbug's eyes.
"Oh, fine, have it your way. We'll see if the Sheriff feels the same. Saheshir, call the guards, please."
From the top of a shelf, a raven takes flight, speeding out of the door.
James looks up at the window - now unaccountably higher than it was - and braces himself before jumping up.
Tarketh stares at the bird flying out of the window, clearly in awe. "Whooooaaaa. You have your own Orvis? Here I thought you were just a mean old ********, not a cool old ********!
He is hoping to buy time, causing a ruckus and distracting the owner of the store from James' creeping.
James sneaks out of the window as Pillbug is apparently too distracted yelling at Tarketh. "They're called familiars! And I'm not a ********, for ****'s sake! Will you just get out of my shop before you give me a heart attack?"
James quickly wanders around the front "Did you just say **** and ******** to my little sister? Sheesh man, she's a kid! C'mon Sammy, let's go before he teaches you any more bad words."
Tarketh cackles, patting his thigh with one hand. "Come on, Orvis. I can see we're not welcome here." He skips out of the store and down the road a bit, ducking into an alley nearby to reconvene with the others.
Pillbug sighs in relief as the small agents of chaos leave his quiet shop.
Once safely away John jumps into the air. "YES! Well done guys! I got in, and I saw the *******! Let's go tell before we he moves."
Tarketh cheers with James in the alley, laughing. "I can't believe I got to call him a ********! We ought to go before the sheriff gets here, though!"
Five years ago, tragedy shook the quiet town of Sandpoint: several gruesome murders were followed by a fire that destroyed the Cathedral, killing the beloved priest Ezakien Tobyn and his beautiful adopted daughter Nualia.
But time passes, and with the cycle of the seasons and every new harvest, peace returned to Sandpoint. On the 22nd of Rova of 4707, the Autumnal Equinox, the annual Swallowtail Festival had something more to celebrate, as the new cathedral had finally been completed.
And on the day of the Swallowtail Festival, seven perky kids find themselves in the town square, eager to spend the sunny day playing around, gorging on the free food the taverns bring out, and listening to the minstrels butchering the same folk songs over and ofer, their music growing shakier with every pint of ale. What could go wrong on this beautiful day?
Before the fun begins, however, Mayor Kendra Deverin walks over the wooden stage, addressing the crowd with a large smile. "Greetings, everyone! I am oh so glad to see all of you here, both locals and travelling merchants, even Larz managed to leave his tannery! Is this your first break of the year, Larz?"
As a chuckle runs through the crowd, you tune out the mayor's inane pleasantries, focusing instead on a large, opalescent beetle that Tarketh has just found among the paved stones. Your attention returns to Kendra just as the fatidic words are spoken: "And now, let the Festival begin! Have fun!"
Games and entertainment:
- Village fair favorites are all presents, from sack races to tug-of-war and balance beam.
- Alma Avertin, the baker, is holding a raffle with cookies as prizes, and a chance to win a carrot pie that could likely feed a whole family for a day.
- Koya Mvashti, the aged fortuneteller, offers to read the Harrow cards to whoever wishes to know about their future.
- Shayliss Vinder, a beautiful girl slightly older than you and occasional playmate, is standing on the sides with a smirk on her face.
- Cyrdak Drokkus, the owner of the Sandpoint Theater, is trying to get the minstrels into shape, leading them with his booming voice. Meanwhile, Jesk Berinni, the innkeeper of Cracktooth's Tavern, keeps refilling their mugs with his dark, foamy ale.
- Jargie Quinn, the owner of the Hagfish watering hole, is daring people to drink a glass of "Norah's water". You have heard rumors about it, it's apparently something so foul that nobody can stomach it.
- Sheriff Hemlock has put up targets for an archery contest, as well as a melee bout. Could he be any more obvious in his attempts to find promising recruits for the militia?
- Ameiko Kajitsu, the former adventurer and owner of the Rusty Dragon Inn, has brought out a cauldron, and people are throwing all kinds of food inside. As she sniffs the mixture, she grimaces and dumps spices inside.
- Daviren Hosk, the goblin-hating stablemaster, has painstakingly painted goblin faces on a large number of pumpkins, and hands quarterstaves and clubs to those who want to hit them, promising a prize to whoever squashes one in one hit.
- Vorvashali Voon, the owner of the local oddities and trinkets store, and Broderick Quink, the old local sage, are arguing passionately. Voon looks amused, Quink looks like he's about to pop a vein.
Isaac looked lost in the middle of the crowd. He was easy to overlook as small as he was and dressed in what looked like a pile of cast-offs. There were simply too many options for the poor lad. Once, he had glimpsed the townsfolk dancing around a 'maypole' and wrapping it in brightly colored ribbons. Turning this way and that, pulled in seemingly all directions at once by the sights and smells, Isaac imagined this is rather how the maypole must feel.
He had been absent from most of the previous festivals and fair days of Sandpoint and this was the first one the Professor had given him permission to attend. She had not wanted to, lecturing on the foolishness of such things and fully expecting that her clinic would be needed to deal with injuries from some 'silly tom-buggery' or other.
Isaac wondered why she disapproved of them so when he had seen the charcoal sketch she kept in her private office of her awkwardly smiling and a with a grinning woman against a backdrop of festival tents and stands. Still, part of him wished she were here, the festival was for families to have fun together and he could not very well take Felix out of his tank to see the festival with him. He had seen what Ms. Kajitsu did to octopuses, and while he liked her stories he would not like to see her cooking up his best friend in that cauldron of hers.
A snatch of conversation filtered through the tumult in his mind. Mr. Jargie Quinn was offering water to the festival goers, it seemed. Isaac thought it was rather kind of him to set up a water stand to help keep everyone well in this sun. The well must be packed with people. With a quick mental calculation he decided that Mr. Quinn was closer to him than the well and set off through the crowd, deciding a glass of water would be a good way to refresh himself while he laid out a plan of attack.
Squeezing through the bodies around where Mr. Quinn had set himself up and thinking Mr. Quinn's water must be very popular, Isaac carefully skirted around someone being noisily sick onto the cobblestones. The poor man must either be dehydrated or the worse for drink, and Isaac hoped that Mr. Quinn's water would offer some relief. The Professor would likely have harangued the poor man in either case. Failure to take care of oneself in such simple ways as remaining hydrated in the sun was as great a character flaw in her book as over indulgence in alcohol.
"Excuse me, Mr. Quinn, I would like some water please," Isaac said, enunciating his words clearly and carefully over the sound of the poor man's retching. The Professor had taught him that there was always cause for clear diction and good manners no matter the occasion.
Quiin wanders into the square, quietly excited that on only his second day in Sandpoint he gets to enjoy a festival. The first thing he spots is the baker, whose name he doesn't know, proclaiming her raffle, and thinks to himself that the pie, or even one of the cookies, would make a great thank you present for Uncle Mirut. As he walks over, he hears the shouting of Broderick Quink getting louder, and decides to head over there and see if he can help sort things out after he buys his raffle ticket. As he nears the baker, his powers kick in...
Read Mind (Lesser) on Alma Avertin
A strange eyed little girl sits on a blanket laid out near Koya's caravan, her expression the most peculiar fusion of excitement, boredom, and antsiness, an expression that one might have considered impossible to exist were they not seeing it for themselves. Her antsiness was because, for the first time ever, she had been given permission by Auntie Anya to tell people's fortunes, and Grannie Koya didn't seem to mind her setting up nearby. Her boredom was because no one was coming for a reading, and she hates doing nothing. And her antsiness is because there's so many things going on, and she wants to run free through the festival trying every event she can, if she leaves without telling even one fortune Auntie will just take it as a sign she isn't ready. So she sighs, promising herself that as soon as someone actually takes her up on her offered fortune telling, she'll pack up and go play.
James runs free.
Finally aunt Anya had given in and let Sammy set up a "stall", and that meant that Sammy was stuck in one place. That meant James didn't need to run after her the whole day. That meant he had hours to do whatever he wants.
"Sherrif?" he asked "Can I have a go with the bow?" 'Huh' he thinks as he looks around 'I thought Tark was going to beat me here.'
Almos was ecstatic. He'd heard about the festival before but he'd never actually been to one. The boy wished Chakacoatl could be here. Miss Ameiko had suggested he'd be... distracting for some of the other people at the festival. Something about a two headed snake-god being unusual? He didn't really get it.
Instead of thinking about it though he began using the little bit of extra coin he'd ben working really hard to get to run around and try all the games and food.
Almos nearly asked if he could try the Hagfish Challenge, but when he saw what it entailed and the awful smell, he hurried away and tried to keep his meal(s) in his stomach.
"Why would anyone want to do that?!"
Tarketh snatches the shimmering beetle from the cobblestones, holding it up in triumph as he dashes through the legs of Sandpoint's citizenry, Orvis trailing behind. "Whoooohoo! I found a treasure!" He emerges from the throng, both hands clasped around the bug as he approaches Old Man Voon and his friend, whose name Tarketh could never remember. "Vooooon! I found a treasure! Wanna buy it?" He asks, lifting one hand just enough to give a peek at the beetle held between his palms.
He runs past James on his way, oblivious to the plans he'd made earlier in light of his recent acquisition.
Quinn lets out a hearthy laugh at Isaac, pivoting on his peg leg to get a closer look at him. "Arn't ye a bit young to taste a drink, lad? Ach, who'm I to deny you the chance to win the grand prize? Here, have yerself a sip."
Isaac's physiology is quite different from that of a human, making him far more resilient than he appears. But the alchemy that brought him to life was derived from a study of humanoids, and modeled on that. Which, unfortunately for him, means that he has taste buds.
The water, scooped from the acquarium where the hagfish Norah lives, is the single foulest thing that Isaac has ever tasted, and since he lives with an alchemist, that's saying something. A rancid mucus with notes of spoiled milk, rotten egg and putrid fish, after a sip Isaac's throat closes reflexively, and an involuntary reaction has him sputter and gasp, trying to get the taste out of his mouth.
Regret. Loneliness. Wistfulness. Longing.
Behind Alma's apparent grandmotherly cheerfulness is a suffocating sadness. As Quiin is approaching, she addresses him. "Want to try your luck, dear? Worst case, you get a cookie, I've got honey, raisins, elderberries..."
After looking at the melee arena for some time, Shayliss gets apparently bored and moves over to the foretelling caravan. As Koya is currently busy, the 16-years-old redhead sits in front of Sammy. "D'you read the Harrow? What's going to happen in this year?"
"Course you can! Now listen to me, this is a real weapon. It's not a toy, it's not meant to be safe, and that's why you need to be responsible. Can I trust you?"
Hemlock gives James a shortbow and ten arrows, pointing him to the targets he's set up on the side, away from the crowd.
As Tarketh approaches, the elderly scholar storms off, his bald head red in rage, as Voon smiles beatifically at the boy. The man has a sort of ageless appearance, and there are voices that he's using magic to prevent aging. "Poor Brodert. All these years, and he hasn't learned to take a joke. Oh, but what do you have here- ew." With a light grimace, Voon recoils from the bug. "Ah, sorry, not, well, not a fan of the creepy crawlies. But, you know, the Osiriani thought that beetles were sacred, and they carved scarabs out of precious stones to accompany them in the afterlife. I actually might-"
The man rustles through his robe until he finds a small scarab carved from blue agate. "Yes, like this one. It's not an original Osirian one, but it's nice to carry at your neck."
Isaac, finally grasping that perhaps he had been mistaken about just what was going on, decides on a course of action. Surrounded by onlookers and in the face of Mr. Quinn's amused smile, he grasps the cup in both hands, stopped breathing to limit how much of this he would actually experience and slammed the contents down in a single, messy gulp.
He had not had breakfast that morning, not unusual considering that eating, along with breathing and sleeping, was not something he strictly needed to do. He was glad of that.
The slime, for that's what the contents of the cup really were, seemed to fight his attempts to swallow it down but eventually the majority was forced to comply, leaving only a thin coating on every surface inside of his mouth. Isaac did not double over, due to having slightly different reflexes than a human, and was already as pale as a sheet so he might have seemed fine for the moment. Yet he was suddenly aware of a delicate balancing act happening inside of himself.
Very slowly, he lowered the cup from his lips, careful not to disturb the contents of his stomach overmuch as he gently handed the cup back to Mr. Quinn. He stood stock still arms out as though he were worried about falling over, and waited to see if what he had just drank was about to make an escape attempt.
Once he was sure he'd forgotten the sight of whatever had been in the tank Almos began walking around to look for something else to do. His eyes landed on a large amount of pumpkins and hurried over to see Daviren Hosk.
"Hey, mister, what's the game called and how do you play?"
"Hello Miss! I'm Quiin, , and I'd love a ticket please. What's your name?"
Quiin smiles politely at the baker, knowing that his politeness has little chance of making her feel better, but willing to try all the same.
Use Studied Target for +1 to hit and damage.
I have assumed no non-proficiency penalty. Feel free to add if needed. As it happens he is a high BAB class and I'd like to take hunting bow as the weapon. While I'd envisioned longbow, I think a teenager sized longbow would probably be a shortbow?
Sammy bites her lip. For something as big as a whole year, that would need... 9? Yes, the full 9 card Harrow spread, not read as past-present-future but beginning-middle-end. She begins shuffling her Harrow deck in a manner that is both clumsy and fluid, indicating a great degree of practice shuffling like an adult, but in the hands of an awkward, not-yet-fully-coordinated child. One by one, she lays out the cards in a 9 by 9 grid pattern, and begins turning them over, one column at a time.
The top left card shows a halfling woman holding a newborn demon by the leg. "The Midwife. She, um... well, something's going to happen to let something new to be made." Sammy takes a second to think, then nods.
The middle left shows a castle, held aloft by giant mechanical legs. "The Keep. It means strength that can't be moved. Like, you can't just shove a castle around, because it's real big and heavy."
The bottom left shows a bear on a unicycle. "This one is the Bear," Sammy identifies helpfully. "The bear is big and strong, and you can't tell it what to do, because if you try it'll just eat you."
The top middle card shows a purple man in strange clothes, ladened with strange goods. "Uh..." This was one of the more esoteric cards, and so more difficult for Sammy to remember. "Secrets will be told and passed around, but some of the people who learn them might not like what they hear?" It was a close enough approximation anyway, and she moved on.
In the center is a lamia, a woman with the lower body of a snake, holding a bouquet of flowers. "The Liar," Sammy says with much more confidence than the last one. "Her love is super dangerous. Cuz like, that's a picture of a monster, right, and you don't wanna fall in love with a monster, cuz they'll eat your face."
The bottom middle card is a crocodile-headed man in a fine suit, drinking tea and sitting on a human's back. "The Rak-... the Rawk-... the Rawksasa. He controls peoples minds, makes them do what he wants. He's super scary, so be careful of anyone like that."
In the top right corner is an image of an owl, holding a needle in its beak. "The Owl means... the 'natural order of things.'" Sammy scrunches her face in concentration as she tries to remember what Grannie Koya taught her about the card. "It's super sad when deer get eaten by wolves, but it's super happy for the wolves, and that's just sort of the way things are."
At the middle right is a picture of a gross looking old woman with no eyes where they're supposed to be, but one right in her mouth. Sammy makes a disgusted face; this was her Auntie Anya's least favorite card too. "The Mute Hag is the card of dangerous secrets," she recites, going off rote memory for this one. "If those secrets get out, it'll hurt people, but if they don't it'll hurt the ones keeping them, so no one really wins."
And lastly, in the bottom right corner is a dragon, curled around a globe clutched in its talons. "The Tyrant is... a really bad guy. Badder than the Rawksasa, even, cuz' he wants to control everything, and he'll hurt anyone to do it."
With all the cards laid out, Sammy glances over the reading one more time. "Um... since there aren't any true matches, the most important cards are the Midwife, the Rawksasa and the Tyrant, cuz those are all partial matches. So... does that tell you anything?"
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Sammy bites her lip. For something as big as a whole year, that would need... 9? Yes, the full 9 card Harrow spread, not read as past-present-future but beginning-middle-end. She begins shuffling her Harrow deck in a manner that is both clumsy and fluid, indicating a great degree of practice shuffling like an adult, but in the hands of an awkward, not-yet-fully-coordinated child. One by one, she lays out the cards in a 9 by 9 grid pattern, and begins turning them over, one column at a time.
The top left card shows a halfling woman holding a newborn demon by the leg. "The Midwife. She, um... well, something's going to happen to let something new to be made." Sammy takes a second to think, then nods.
The middle left shows a castle, held aloft by giant mechanical legs. "The Keep. It means strength that can't be moved. Like, you can't just shove a castle around, because it's real big and heavy."
The bottom left shows a bear on a unicycle. "This one is the Bear," Sammy identifies helpfully. "The bear is big and strong, and you can't tell it what to do, because if you try it'll just eat you."
The top middle card shows a purple man in strange clothes, ladened with strange goods. "Uh..." This was one of the more esoteric cards, and so more difficult for Sammy to remember. "Secrets will be told and passed around, but some of the people who learn them might not like what they hear?" It was a close enough approximation anyway, and she moved on.
In the center is a lamia, a woman with the lower body of a snake, holding a bouquet of flowers. "The Liar," Sammy says with much more confidence than the last one. "Her love is super dangerous. Cuz like, that's a picture of a monster, right, and you don't wanna fall in love with a monster, cuz they'll eat your face."
The bottom middle card is a crocodile-headed man in a fine suit, drinking tea and sitting on a human's back. "The Rak-... the Rawk-... the Rawksasa. He controls peoples minds, makes them do what he wants. He's super scary, so be careful of anyone like that."
In the top right corner is an image of an owl, holding a needle in its beak. "The Owl means... the 'natural order of things.'" Sammy scrunches her face in concentration as she tries to remember what Grannie Koya taught her about the card. "It's super sad when deer get eaten by wolves, but it's super happy for the wolves, and that's just sort of the way things are."
At the middle right is a picture of a gross looking old woman with no eyes where they're supposed to be, but one right in her mouth. Sammy makes a disgusted face; this was her Auntie Anya's least favorite card too. "The Mute Hag is the card of dangerous secrets," she recites, going off rote memory for this one. "If those secrets get out, it'll hurt people, but if they don't it'll hurt the ones keeping them, so no one really wins."
And lastly, in the bottom right corner is a dragon, curled around a globe clutched in its talons. "The Tyrant is... a really bad guy. Badder than the Rawksasa, even, cuz' he wants to control everything, and he'll hurt anyone to do it."
With all the cards laid out, Sammy glances over the reading one more time. "Um... since there aren't any true matches, the most important cards are the Midwife, the Rawksasa and the Tyrant, cuz those are all partial matches. So... does that tell you anything?"
Through a superb show of will power and control over his reflexes, Isaac manages to gulp down a swig of the fetid slime. Quinn claps his hands excitedly. "Now that's one dedicated lad! I reckon the whole tankard might be a wee bit too much for ye, but you deserve a prize, eh?"
From a pocket, the innkeeper fishes a gold coin and hands it over to Isaac. "Come try the whole thing in a couple o' years, and we'll have to add another name on the ceiling!"
Daviren turns his face, marred by a large, clean cut scar, to the boy as he finishes cleaning a large hunting knife. "Ah, just a little something I like to call Squash the Goblin! Just like my place. Rules are simple, you choose one of the little buggers, and you squash it!"
Turning around swiftly, he tosses the knife square in the face of one of the goblin-pumpkins.
"It's a game of creativity and imagination. You just get a hammer and blow your goblin to bits, that's all nice and good, but if you surprise me, well, that's when you win a prize!"
Alma's face lights up in a smile as the boy approaches. Her feelings shift too, the bitter longing tempered by sweetness and grandmotherly kindness. "I'm Alma, sweetie, the baker. Are you new in town? I don't remember seeing you around. Here, take one, and another for being so kind and polite!"
Even for James' trained hands, the bow is stiff and unwieldy. Five of the arrows hit the target fair and square, while one gets snagged on the side. On his eight attempt, the bow slips from his fingers, smacking him square in the nose, but he manages to refocus, and the last arrows stops just half an inch from the center.
"Not bad!" cheers the Sheriff, clapping. "That adds up to 31, if I'm not wrong, I've seen adults do much worse. You've got a future in front of you, boy, if you just train a bit with it."
Shayliss looks increasedly worried as the most disquieting cards come out. As soon as Sammy mentions the Midwife as an important card, she blushes and bolts away, shrieking "I'm too young! I don't want a baby!"
At the words, Koya bursts into a fit of laughter, clutching at her stomach. "Now that was one of the greatest Harrowings I've ever seen! Ah, you're going to drive us all out of business, assuming Ven doesn't come screaming bloody vengeance!"
Sammy snickers. "Don't look at me, I'm still learning." She puts the Harrow deck back in her belt pouch and starts folding up her blanket. "Granny, I'm gonna go run around the festival wreaking havoc and causing mischief. Is that okay?" She smiles sweetly at Koya.
Koya holds up the Carnival, the Joke and the Cricket. "Go and have fun for all of us, tiny one."
"Thank... you... mister... Quinn," Isaac manages despite the small scale rebellion going on inside of him and takes the coin in a small hand, squeezing his prize carefully in his grip. His words were halting but still carefully polite and perfectly enunciated, "Could... I... please... have... something... else... to... drink?" He was restraining the urge to scrub at his mouth or cram in anything that might erase the taste of the slime.
"Sounds like fun, and after you can use the mashed pumpkin to make Goblin Brain Pie! May I get the hammer? I'm gonna try it." he held out his hand and gave a friendly smile. The idea of pie might be motivating the boy more than, say, getting to smash stuff though.