Page 71 of Office of the Lost

He missed that part of himself.He’d spent his whole life believing—reasonably enough—that he was human, and it had been shocking to discover that he wasn’t.But it had also been… affirming, in a way.An acknowledgment that the unsettledness he’d always felt in his core wasn’t craziness or a bad attitude but, instead, a source of power.And now it was gone.

And it wasn’t as if he entirely minded being human-ish.He liked his body well enough and the things he could do with it, like eating and enjoying a nice spring day and, of course, sex.He wasn’t nearly as handsome as Crispin, but Leopold’s eyes were a nice color.And being around other people, that wasn’t so bad, even if he inevitably messed something up and did something, well, chaotic that upset them.He was, in fact, grateful that Crispin’s mother had made him human-shaped and had sent him to Earth.

Yet now, in this place, he wasn’t even really human.He’d been reduced to an object.Part of a collection, with no more abilities than a butterfly pinned to cardboard.

Yep, here he was, back to wallowing again.He could dothatfor two thousand years if he had to.It wasn’t as if he had any better way to spend his time.

He groaned and covered his eyes with an arm.

He remained like that for a time, but it turned out that wallowing was actually pretty boring.He also lacked the accessories for proper wallowing, such as bottles of alcohol or tubs of ice cream or those plastic yellow squeezy sleeves of chocolate chip cookie dough.He’d never really noticed before how tedious his own company could be.

A new idea trickled slowly into his brain.Jeannie had suggested that he find someone clever to help.Maybe someone else on TV would fit the bill.Someone who solved mysteries.

He thought back to the foster parents’ DVDs, trying to remember whether there had been any detective shows among the mix.DidAdam-12count?

It was worth a try.

Leopold heaved himself off the couch and turned the channel knob on the TV.At first there was more static, but just as he was about to give up, a cartoon speech bubble appeared.POW!It was replaced a second or two later by another:BAM!and thenSOCK!Familiar music began to play.

“Oh,” sighed Leopold.

And there they were in their leotards, capes, and masks, grinning at him.Leopold waved and collapsed back onto the couch.“Hi, guys.”

It wasn’tAdam-12, obviously, and these guys weren’t detectives.Although one of the actors was named Adam, if he remembered right, so maybe that counted for something.

They did solve crimes, though.Sort of.And jeez, watching this series had led to his gay awakening, when his not-quite-adolescent self had become increasingly aware of how interested he was in Robin and his almost skin-tight clothes.

“I’m not trying to fight a humanoid feline or an Egyptian mummy.You can go away now,” Leopold informed the TV.

“Holy doormat, who knew you’d give up so easily?”Robin looked slightly disgusted.

“I’m giving up ‘cause I can’t do anything.I’ve got nothing.Look at me!I’m even more scantily dressed than you.”

“Clothing does not make the man,” said the other guy on the screen, and it looked as if he might be about to launch into a lecture.

Leopold stopped him with a raised hand.“I’m not youryoung ward, okay, so spare me.I’m nobody’s anything.And my underwear isn’t really the point.”He was reminded that the wholeadopt the handsome young guy who likes to wear really tight tightsthing had always seemed a bit suspicious.“My powers are gone.I’ve got zip.”

“Oh?”Robin crossed his arms.“If that’s the case, how come you’re talking to us?”

That question hadn’t occurred to Leopold.If it had, he would have assumed it was just part of the general magicness of OotL.Except… it didn’t make sense that Bidulla—or whoever was in charge of such things—would send him TV characters who were potentially helpful.Or that she would choose shows that had comforted him in his childhood.

“Okay, fine.Maybe I can somehow manifest you guys.But that’s not helpful.I need to escape this place, but I can’t get anything out, not even a message to Crispin.”

The older man raised one beautifully tweezed eyebrow.“Maybe the answer isn’t getting things out.Maybe it’s drawing things in.”

They both watched him expectantly, clearly waiting for him to get it.

He didn’t, though, and a moment later they hopped into a black car and raced away, leaving him with nothing but a bright yellow screen with a speech bubble that saidKLONK!

He didn’t want to draw things in.What was he supposed to do?Zap Crispin here so he was imprisoned too?As much as Leopold missed him, he would never stoop so low, even if he could.Crispin deserved his freedom.

This is stupid.He clicked off the TV, stomped over to the bed, and fell dramatically onto it.The problem was that he had zero ideas.Which wasn’t a surprise, since Crispin had said that creativity came from Chaos, and right now Leopold was fresh out of Chaos.Which sucked.Chaosdidhelp make the worlds beautiful.Without it, life would be as pointless and featureless as this room, without even a poster on the walls.

Wait.

Wait wait wait.

Draw things in.

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