Myka's head jerked up from where she was searching under her bed when there arose such a clatter. Helena gave a cut-off shout from down the hall, swearing in an amusing combination of nineteenth century British and twenty-first century American slang.
Myka rounded the doorway of Helena's new room and, taking in the overturned desk and H.G. Wells sprawled out on the floor, backward-crawling away, said, "There you are!"
"There it--who is? What?" Helena climbed to her feet as Myka swooped into the rubble and scooped up her missing ferret.
"This," Myka said, turning around and brandishing her pet, "is Pete."
Helena tugged on the bottom of her vest and flipped her hair back, regaining her composure. "Pete?"
Myka grinned. Artie had snorted, Leena thought it childish,and Claudia loved it when she told them her ferret's name. "Cute but kinda dumb," she explained.
Helena looked doubtful, eyeing the spill of objects across her floor. Myka dropped the ferret on her shoulder and started picking things up, and after a moment Helena joined her.
As they were righting the desk--and Pete was sniffing at Helena's shoulder, seriously considering leaping, while Helena eyed him back with a disgruntled glare--Myka said, "Don't tell Pete. Human Pete."
"Your partner . . . doesn't know the name of your pet?" Helena asked.
"My partner is also cute and kinda dumb. Get it?"
Helena quirked an eyebrow. "And the others?"
"Pete keeps coming up with elaborate bribes," Myka confirmed. Helena grinned.
"Thank you for telling me."
"You're welcome," Myka replied.
Then Pete, proving Myka had name him well, jumped from her shoulder to H. G.'s and got flung across the room for his trouble.