Icky spun around. “TA-DAAA!” I stared, then did something I don’t normally do. I guffawed, making a sound that was part snort, part laugh. Then silence. Icky grinned. “I know, right? It’s great!” I glanced down at Perry. “Bird, we’re going to discuss this.” “Of course. You’ll want to put a commendation in my file as well.” Icky was wearing Groucho Marx glasses, complete with fake nose and mustache, and had a plastic cigar clamped between her lips. She’d somehow gotten the silly thing stretched across her enormous face but had to keep pushing it up to keep it in place. “Doesn’t fit that great,”
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I guess we're going old school now...
