"Alright, Big Bubble. Let's dance."
Rodion hovered by the archway, stubby arms folded.
"Where's your sense of slapstick?" Mikhailis took two bounding strides and jumped. He landed square atop the slime's surface—and instantly rebounded, arms flailing. The jelly acted like a taut trampoline, launching him skyward with an undignified yelp.
He flipped once mid-air, years of acrobatics training saving him from a neck-twisting fall, and landed on the far edge of the pool in a crouch. The splash from his boots rippled across the glassy water like an applause ripple.
Rodion emitted a static hiss that might have been laughter.
"Told you," Mikhailis wheezed, rubbing his hip. "Slapstick." He rose, dusting nonexistent lint. The slime wobbled angrily, releasing a burbling blorp that echoed off quartz walls.
