"You didn't say you wouldn't kill me and eat me," Ellie half-squealed, looping her arm through his. Her words and actions weren't matching up. She tried to imagine what she was supposed to be doing -- calling someone on the phone? walking back to her apartment? -- and it was like watching some sort of echoed playback.
"Here," she told Brennan, tone suddenly level, semi-certain. "I know the way."
She didn't live very far, actually. She could see it now: her pristine apartment, oddly wobbly in her mind's eye, as if in a slow motion earthquake. These things kept happening too often. It didn't do to keep messing around. People were going to start getting tired of it. Oh well. Oh well.
"Oh well," Ellie murmured. She managed to stand after a moment, wobbly as a baby deer; when she glanced back down, her high heels looked about three miles away where they lay on the pavement.
Then she reached her hand down for Brennan's, moving the other to stifle an enormous yawn. "Aren't you coming... You're coming with me, Brennan? 'm Ellie. El-oo-eeese. But you can call me Brains."