“It is not, indeed. I am aware that asking for an apology might appear insurmountable, and thou art still concerned about what thou have done and almost have done while under the influence of the dark sorcery. But,” he showed a reassuring smile, “we all have our foul moments, and I can tell thou art a good lad. I am confident though can smooth things over with our comrade somehow.”
He puffed up his chest and gave an encouraging pat on Cabot’s shoulder. “As such, dost not let this lone accident hinder thee and gnaw at thy heart. Thou will do swell, I can te—”
And then, a boom came from the storage, followed by a trail of smoke coming out of the door. Icetales turned sharply toward the source and his ears drooped. “Uh oh. Dost not tell me they dropped the fireworks box…”
As in on cue, a Blast Seed-powered rocket zipped out of the door, before crashing to the floor and turning into a sputtering cluster of metal, seed crumbles and smoke.
Icetales growled in annoyance. “Oh, for the love of Sir Jirachi! Did they miss the ‘fragile’ warning or something?” He shot quick glances at his comrades. “A-Apologies, but I must attend that issue before pronto!” He glanced at Cabot. “Thou can do it, Sir Cabot. Also, thou have friends willing to help. Remember that.”
And just like that, he bolted toward the storage room, disappearing from sight.
