"Hold steady," she said. Then she let go of his shoulder and stood upright, depending entirely on his hands for support. She reached out, caught hold of the book, and smiled down at him. It was just as she was bending down again that she lost her balance.
In the next instant Marc's head and shoulders became the center of what seemed to be a dozen flailing arms and legs.
In an effort to save the situation, Marc stepped back and held out his arms, just in time for Toffee to strike him solidly on the chest. In the tangle that followed they both tumbled to the floor. When Marc looked up Toffee was once more seated comfortably and safely on his stomach. She looked down at him and laughed.
"Does it strike you that a certain monotony has come into our relationship?" she asked.
"It strikes me that a certain pain has come into my stomach," Marc wheezed. "Would you be kind enough, I wonder, to take a seat elsewhere for a change? Or am I going to have to wear you like a watch fob from now on?"
Toffee eyed his mid-section with scorn. "If you think that shriveled bladder of yours is so comfortable, you just ought to try sitting on it sometime."
"That would make an interesting spectacle," Marc commented acidly. "If I'm not comfortable to sit on it's probably because you landed on me so hard you're on my spine. Get off."
"A pleasure," Toffee said and slid to the floor beside him. "Here's that silly book of yours." Without thinking, except to express her contempt for Marc's central region as a seating arrangement, she tossed the book in his direction. The book described a small arc toward Marc, then promptly swooped upward in rapid ascent.
"Oh, my gosh!" Marc said. He sat up and grabbed just in time. "Let's not...!"
Suddenly he stopped as a series of footsteps sounded on the floor above.