Tom is wandering around. He is still ten, but he is not lost. He is not tired. He is not hungry. He is not lonely. He is not scared. And he most certainly is not almost at the point of tears.
Livia has returned to her proper age, though she remembers bits and pieces of her experiences as a five-year old and she has a strong suspicion of who the boy in the pink suit is.
"Livia Cuthbert," she said, offering her hand as if he were an adult and not crying. She doesn't know much about ten year old boys, but she doesn't think they very much care to be caught crying. "It's very good to see you."
And because the typist is evil and wants to mess with Tom and Richard some more...
...here's an adultified Richard. He is taking a walk to clear his head, and sees the boy, blinking at the vague familiarity. His memories from his brief stint as an eight year old are, while not gone, definitely on the fuzzy side. "Are you all right, there?"
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"Tom Jones, is that you?"
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...here's an adultified Richard. He is taking a walk to clear his head, and sees the boy, blinking at the vague familiarity. His memories from his brief stint as an eight year old are, while not gone, definitely on the fuzzy side. "Are you all right, there?"
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