Miniature Miniatures

-Chapter Six-

"Sorry, Jed, but Dad said specifically not to let you in 'til they knew what was happening," Nicky spoke to the cowboy in his hand.

"Yes, I'm afraid the young Guardian of Brooklyn is correct. While no miniature is allowed around him at the moment, we were warned against your determination," Ahkmenrah spoke in a sympathetic tone, "But worry not. He'll be alright."

"I don' care if I get sick 'r whatever. If no one's 'llowed in there, then 'e's alone. Ain't no one deserves t' feel left fer dead. 'Specially Octy," he crossed his arms stubbornly.

"Oh, Dad was right,"

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Blissfully unaware of the argument happening across the museum, Octavius woke up. He sat up with a difficulty he hadn't noticed before. The shirt he was wearing hitched up on his newly rounded gut.

He took a deep breath and refused to look down. Panic helps nothing; every solider knew that.

He slowly stood, and as he did, he spotted some doll garments laid out outside the confines of the plastic tote he was in. It seemed as though Larry was looking for clothes for him and didn't find any that would have worked.

Would have worked.

Nope. No panic. Push thoughts away; focus on the tasks at hand.

And that was how he decided he was going to get himself a new shirt.

The tote was actually quite large, meant to confine him without actually feeling confined.

Well, he decided, Confinement be damned.

He stacked all the plastic furniture, climbed to the top, and made a leap over the top. He rolled into the impact on the counter. Instead of rolling into a standing position as he usually did, he ended up sliding across the counter on his side, still curled as far into a ball as he could be. Once he came to a stop, he brushed himself off and stood, finding the clothes nearby.

     Octavius swallowed, hoping that something fit him: there was an entire tote full of clothes next to the pre-picked clothing, but he had no way of getting in there.

     Or back into the tote he was supposed to be in, he noticed with a groan.

     He shifted through the collection. It was obvious Larry had taken his preference for more masculine modern clothing into account. Eventually, he found a shirt he liked. He peeled off the current shirt (don't look down don't look down don't look down) and pulled on the larger one.

     It fell down to his knees and the sleeves hung down to his elbows. If he was correct, it was a Barbie crop top.

     It hid his problem perfectly.

     Feeling renewed confidence, he tied together the remaining garments and tied them into a rope, securing them to a metal pencil sharpener and throwing it over the clear plastic wall.

     Once he made it over, he realized how out of breath he was, and how unfortunate it was that he left the furniture stacked.

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As much as he pretended to be around other cowfolk, Jedidiah was no idiot.

He quickly found his way into Larry's pocket as he had done a few times now, and he waited to be taken to Octavius. Larry wouldn't leave a sick person unattended all day, would he?

"Nice try, Jed," the miniature felt himself get lifted out of the pocket and onto the the floor, "But I'm sure you've been told by now that no one brought to life by the tablet is allowed to see him until we know he's not contagious."