“Jason…” Arabelle said in a tone of long-suffering admonition. “What?” Jason asked, the image of boyish innocence. “What is this?” “What is what?” “This place?” “I have no idea. It was like this when I got here.” “Really?” “Yep. I think Gary might have set it up. Look at all that molten metal. He’s probably taking a stab at industrial smithing.” “You’re claiming Gary did this.” “Yeah, that kooky leonid. What will he get up to next?” “So, there aren’t iron sharks swimming around in that molten metal.” “Absolutely not.” “Or fire piranhas.” “I can, in all honesty, assure you that there are no
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