Mastodawn

Sparxie's smile grew as she realized why Sunday had paused. “Oh? Did you almost make a joke there? You would be a fool to make a deal with a Fool, is that it?”

“It was a completely accidental turn of phrase.” Sunday muttered.

“Sure, sure. Now, back to our deal.” According to what she had said earlier, she wanted to work together during Sunday's time on Planarcadia.

“I refuse.”

“Why?” Sparxie whined, the mechanical hand drooping as her shoulders sank. “It would be just like last time on Penacony! It would be a mutually beneficial agreement for both of us.”

“As I’m sure you can recall, I refused that agreement as well. You only got permission to help from the head of the Iris Family.”

“Yeah, I know! What a cruel Mr. Sunday, making me cry to the head of a different family for help.”

“Your guilt trip won’t work,” Sunday said, unsure if this could even be considered a guilt trip.

“But aren’t you trying to be a good boy these days? Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to achieve with the Astral Express. Finding yourself? Being more kind in your day to day? Does that sound about right?”

Sunday pressed his lips into a thin line.

“Learning to rely on people other than yourself?” Sparxie added with a wicked grin.

Sunday sighed. Sparxie's logic was starting to make sense. It would be good practice to work with someone as unruly as her. “That’s not enough to convince me.”

“Isn’t it? You know you’ll have an easier time on this planet with my help.” She waggled the hand. “You know you want to.”

There must have been something wrong with him to actually be tempted by her offer.

Mentally grimacing, Sunday reluctantly reached out and took the mechanical hand to shake. The moment he grasped it, a whoopee cushion made a loud, unbecoming sound.

Sparxie doubled over in laughter. “You actually took it!”

Embarrassed that he’d trusted her, Sunday turned around and walked away without another word.

“Hey, wait!” Sparxie called. “I’m still serious about the deal!”

Not wanting to be made a fool of again, he ignored the impulse to look over his shoulder. Before long, Sparxie had caught up and was walking beside him, mechanical hand thrown over her shoulder.

“Relax, chicken wing boy,” she said. “I’m gonna help you out whether you like it or not.”

“I suppose I’m stuck with you.”

“Yeah. Happy?”

Sunday looked at Sparxie's mischievous smile. She walked with a bounce in her step, like she didn’t have a care in the world.

He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he wasn’t exactly sad about the outcome.