Yepyepyep, Ducky had brave-hobbled an invisible recourse with a spitfire droplet pushed straight, accidentally over the edge because certainly Sharp Tooth couldn't get him all the way over here, nope, not in The Nothing's bony hand. Where a stream overflowed her blood diamond knuckles, she'd collected the runaway with a truant hungry tongue before the sensation starved deadsoul drank heartily, and longingly of an extinct species nectar.
The funeral wagons made a diehard shift over the ceremonial circle of the outline of whatever he was... oh? That was how you said what's that? Or what happened? Somehow staring over the broken starry night of reflective shards, glinting and sparkling, that had left the milky way to worship The North Star, made her tip over just slightly -- she was quick to right herself, to sturdy the precious taboo shrine juice the deities shared and the remaining contents of her dinosaur blood.
With difficulty she answered in broken sign language: He needs a nurse! What happened and made a punch, punch gesture woozily, Jurassic wing blood pelting the carpet. But, speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world, there was another word she wanted to say, so for a moment there was a searchingly yearnful cant of her chin... setting down the crystal goblet and the wine, she was not the bread and the knife.
How was she going to show him ghost? Ghost? she leaned in and mouthed carefully Ghhhoooossst, saying OoOoOooO and using her 'spirit fingers.'