…and Mark opens his eyes to find the bottom of the glass clean, clear, and unsullied.
“Holy shit. Did it work? It worked, right?” Mark asked, whirling in place as he tried to locate the fly. “Brad? Brad, where are you?”
Meanwhile, on the counter , Brad was trying to catch up to the sequence of events that had just occurred- shellshocked, he gave a faint buzz of his wings.
“Oh thank god,” Mark exhaled, leaning against the edge of the counter and setting the Chronivac aside. “I didn’t know what to do. I thought they killed you, little guy.”
Little guy? What’s up with that language? Brad thought, staring up at the concerned face of his husband.
“I mean, I can’t really blame them,” Mark babbled, nervous at the close call. “They had no idea I used this thing to make you sentient. I-I mean, I know you’re just a fly, but. I’m responsible for you now. It’d be.. I can’t have that on my conscience.”