Rhiannon took his hand gently in one of hers, the silver ring on her thumb that looked like the bent and twisted handle of a spoon gleaming, and wrote her name and phone number in his palm before moving to his thumb. There she drew a little black hat on the tip of his thumb, then eyes, a nose, a mustache and a mouth, not too far beneath it a suit with a collar and a tie and three big buttons that when all the way down to where his thumb met his palm. She took her time coloring the suit in black, then glanced up and smiled.
"That is Mr. Miserly Mustache," she said, pronouncing it like 'Mooo-stache'. "He will be your champion for this evening's thumb wars. Be careful and don't lose him. His strengths are dialect, catapulting, and sword fighting with hot dogs."