“Oy!!” Fallon exclaimed in her British accent, her eyes wide with surprise. “What are you doing on my bookshelf? And why are you so…small?!”

Blake gulped, a series of nervous sweatdrops sliding down his face. “Fallon, please, I can explain…” She plucked the tiny mage up with two fingers before he could even begin to share his side of the story.

The master sleuth raised him close to her face, her expression now brimming with suspicion. “Bloody hell…as if that infestation of ants last week wasn’t bad enough! Now some shrunken bloke sneaks into my dorm room and tries to nick my entire supply of tea bags! Quite a bonkers decision you made, innit?”

…wait, what?

Shaking his head, Blake made every effort to plead his case. “That’s not why I’m here! I swear, I don’t even drink tea! I’m a mage who made a deal with ghosts! All I’d wanted was to impress you!”

Fallon’s inquisitive glare softened slightly once Blake finished speaking. The room remained dead silent for about a minute while the expert detective’s brain processed all this information. It was a lot to take in…

Finally, Fallon parted her lips to speak again. “So, let me get this straight…you don’t drink tea?”

Blake sighed. “I’ll tell you everything if you just put me back on the bookshelf gently…”

The mage said that a tad too late; Fallon casually dropped him onto the wooden surface. Thankfully he survived the otherwise-fatal fall, but his legs were aching from the harsh impact.

“Ow…”