"I'll do it," 24 volunteered with enthusiasm appropriate for taking out the garbage. Then, to 21, "you get the info from Mr. J on where we're going." He plodded upstairs while 21 put on the remaining pieces of his costume and listened to his new captain.
A short time later, 24 came back downstairs holding at arm's length a black leather purse with a butterfly motif. His face was pale, his limbs moved in stiff, measured jerks, and it seemed as if his antennae were standing up straighter. "Ho ... oh-kay, let's get going, now," he said with short breath.
"Hey, what's the matter?" asked 21. "You look like you just saw the aftermath of a Mouseketeer suicide pact."
24 choked back either a cry or a bit of bile. "Nothing," he squalked with strained flippancy. "Just keep moving. Don't want to keep the nice man waiting."