Gilda ignored him. She reached up, plucked one of the perfectly spherical, shimmering blue fruits from the branch, and took a large bite.
Pip hissed, bracing for an alarm, a trap, or a squad of golems with nets. Zazu watched with quiet, scholarly concern. Sir Crumplebuns held his Spoonblade at the ready, prepared to defend Gilda from any potential fruity assailants.
But nothing happened. The park remained utterly silent. No chimes echoed. No golems appeared.
Gilda just chewed thoughtfully, a small trickle of blue juice running down her chin.
A full, tense minute passed. Then Pip broke the silence. He wasn't looking at her face — he was staring at the blue streak on her chin, his eyes wide with a new and painfully specific kind of terror.
"You're… you're leaking blue!" he whispered. "Is that allowed? Is there a bylaw against leaking unapproved colors? Oh gods, what if they make you fill out a leakage disclosure form?"
