Honestly, For An Evil God Of Darkness,

That's Kind Of What Trust Is, Isn't It? A Willful Self-delusion.

All Right," Spook Said. He Reached To The Ground, Scooping Up A Pile Of Ash. "let's Just Rub This Into Your Clothing And On Your Face...." Breeze Froze. "i'll Meet You Back Ath The Lair," He Finally Said.

So, There I Was, Tied To An Altar Made From Outdated Encyclopedias, About To Get Sacrificed To The Dark Powers By A Cult Of Evil Librarians.

Hmmmm Light Makes Shadow. Truth Makes Lies. Hmmmm.

Be Warned - Hammond Does Tend To Be A Bit Optimistic About These Kind Of Things. If The Army Were Made Up Of One-legged Mutes, He Would Praise Their Balance And Their Listening Skills.