Page 32 of Demons Dig Donuts

“Right, so…” Indy sat on the black leather couch and cringed from how it squeaked. “Have you seen Gammy anywhere?”

“Old lady? Big purple hair? Member of the oxygen deprived?”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

Indy sighed, kicking his feet up on the table next to King. “Mr. Heiss took my stuff, including the earrings she had possessed. Now I don’t know where she is.”

“What about the pickle man?”

“Dill?” Indy scoffed and glared down at his ring, poking it aggressively. “Good question! Would love to know where that mossy asshole is right about now.”

Dill was suddenly there, tucked into the corner by the door. He offered a little smile and waved.

“You! What the fuck? There you are!” Indy scowled. “Where the fuck have you been?”

Dill pointed at himself, blinking.

“Yes, you! The mossy asshole! Where were you?” Indy threw his hands up. “I could have used your help, like, half a dozen times!”

Dill made a mournful sound and hung his head.

“Nope. No way, girly pop. You don’t get to pout when I almost died at least twice.”

“You told him to take a break, didn’t you?” King whispered loudly. “Or did you forget about that?”

“No, I—” Indy stopped.

Fuck.

He totally had.

“Okay. Right. I did.” Indy sighed in annoyance and held back a growl. “Sorry for yelling or whatever. But look, I need to know how to call you, okay? Because all of that sucked. It fucking sucked. And not in the fun way that makes you want a cigarette and a snack after, ’kay?”

Dill whined.

“Sorry, big guy, but c’mon.” Indy gestured encouragingly. “Tell me. How do I summon you?”

Dill perked up and then raised his left hand.

Indy mirrored him. “Okay?”

Dill kissed his ring finger and smiled.

“I kiss the ring?” Indy scoffed. “That’s it? That’s what I do?”

Dill nodded enthusiastically.

“How… sweet.”

Dill then pointed at an unlit candle on the table.

“What?”

Dill pointed again and flicked his fingers like he’d struck a match and was going to light the candle. He held out his hands and drew a curvy figure in the air. He wiggled his fingers wildly, as if he was miming an explosion or a fire.

“Okay, I am really bad at charades, but all of that makes me not want to light that, babe.”