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you want me to come over here?”
    “Quick favor.” Unfastening four of the rectangles, she said, “Can you pinch the tip of this, please?” She pointed at her bare breast.
    Vladymyr squinched up his face at the sight of his sister’s nipple. “What’s this, Loly?” he inquired.
    “A nipple. You’ve probably seen them before. Granted, never one as perfect as this.”
    Vladymyr mumbled, “It’s not as perfect as the ones on the queynte who’ll be playing you on the HBO show.”
    “HB what ?”
    “Small screen,” he explained, then adjusted a growing bulge in his crotch and continued, “I’ve seen plenty of perfect nipples before. Boys have them too, you know.”
    “You mean you’ve seen other boys’ nipples?” Loly asked.
    “Um, no. No. No, I’ve seen my own nipples, and they’re perfect. And girls’ nipples. And lots of them. Lots and lots of them. Lots and lots and lots of them. And I know exactly what to do with girls’ nipples, that’s for sure.”
    Loly smiled. “Perfect. I was hoping you’d know what to do with nipples, because I’d like you to do that to mine.”
    Vladymyr puckered his lips as if he’d jammed his tongue deep into a giant lemon. “I’d rather not. That’s gross.”
    “Why is it gross?” Loly asked, freeing her other breast. “We’re siblings. And according to the page and the small screen, that’s what siblings do. Do stuff with their siblings’ nipples. Among other things.”
    “I’d rather not.”
    “I’d rather you did.”
    “It would be gross.”
    “It would be lovely. As future KERBANGER, I command you, Vladymyr of the House Targetpractice, the Zillionth of His Name, King of the Sandals and the Ryebread, Lord of the Who-the-Heck-Knows-How-Many Kingdoms and Protector of the Elves, to pinch my nipple as hard as you can, and not to stop until I’m either screaming or bleeding.”
    Vladymyr’s pale face paled to the point of translucence, and several dots of sweat materialized on his forehead. “If you insist,” he whispered, then gingerly reached out his right hand and grazed his sister’s right nipple with his pinky, then jerked his hand away as if Loly’s breast were piping hot, which it arguably was, although not as hot as the ones on the queynte who played Loly on the first season of the HBO show.
    Loly said, “Really, Vladymyr? Really? That’s it? That’s the best you can do? I can find a duck who’d do that better.”
    Shaking his head, Vladymyr said, “I don’t understand your obsession with ducks. You’re the only person in Easterrabbit who yammers on about ducks. With everybody else in this Godsforsaken story, it’s all games, and thrones, and clashes, and kings, and storms, and swords, and feasts, and crows, and dances, and dragons, and mud, and onions. But with you, it’s all ducks, ducks, ducks.”
    As she removed her dress, Loly said, “And I don’t get your obsession with dragons.”
    “Dragons are fab,” Vladymyr pouted.
    “Dragons are extinct. And nobody cares about them. Hell, there aren’t even any in The Lord of the Rings, ” Loly noted.
    “Yeah, but there’s one in The Hobbit, ” Vladymyr said. “Smaug.”
    Waving her hand dismissively, Loly said, “Tolkien’s a schmuck. You can’t trust anybody who has that many R s in his name. I mean, J. R. R.? Seriously?” She paused, then continued, “So listen, are you going to pinch the hell out of my nipples or not?”
    “Not.”
    “Fine,” she simpered. “Then get out of my face, you girly-man.”
    “I am not a girly-man!”
    “You go ahead and keep telling yourself that, Vladymyr. And send Illinois in here. I need a bath.”
    After the Magistrate filled up the tub, Loly climbed in and positioned herself so her head was the only part of her body not submerged in water. Once Loly was settled, Illinois turned to leave, but before she could even take a step, the future KERBANGER said, “Don’t move a muscle. I need to do the thing.”
    The Magistrate took a