Lex smiled again, nibbling at her own cookie and stooping so that she could pick Bob up where he could see the shelf, "You pick Bob, I'm out of my league here."
There was another twitter-warble, and he stretched out, the tip of a tendril curling across the top of one of the cases to pull it off the shelf. Lex arched a brow, glancing from it to him and back again, "Of course." She shrugged then, "Anybody going to object to Fern Gully?"