Human: We're going to die.. it's over, we're done for.... I'm.. so tired.
Havenworlder: Stop that, we're NOT going to die, you're the human, you're supposed to be comforting me!
Human: I can't do this anymore.. I want to go home, this is hopeless it's over....it's over.. it's over...
Havenworlder: I beg forgiveness in advance for this! - gives the human a sharp slap! -
Human: -- startled --
Human: Sorry... sorry... yeah.. needed that... c'mon, little brother, let's go home together.
Havenworlder, sad they did that: "I'm sorry, too. I love you too, yes, let's go home alive, together." -- Anon Guest
Neither Grof nor his Human sibling Parb mentioned the fact that the slap was more of a shock to Parb than a pain. Grof's hand stung, but it was not worth mentioning. "Remember," he said. "Look at the problem, think about the problem, solve the problem." It was an old mantra, from the time that they were both very small and confused and welded into a patchwork family.
Parb started chanting the word, "Okay," to themself as they looked around, assessing the situation and what they had to hand. Grof braced himself for an act of inspired desperation at its purest. When necessity caused invention, it was inevitably a mother. A final, "Okay!" was triumphant.
Parb had a plan. Grof could almost relax. When a Human had a plan, the odds of everyone getting out alive increased. However, the phrase "getting out alive" often had painful caveats. The good news was that a life of being sibs meant that Parb had laser-guided accuracy as to what Grof could tolerate. What was coming to shape under Parb's rapid hands was not a weapon, but some form of PPE.