"No, I-I-I-I-I—" How is he getting redder? "Lottie, I-I-I-I-I really— I-I-I-I-I-I-I— you're— I-I-I-I-I-I-I think you're really—"

"Gil?"

"Sorry," he says helplessly.

"No, I just— you're stuttering a lot. I can't understand. Could you try again?"

"Um, I-I-I-I-I-I-I— I-I-I-I-I don't know if I-I-I-I— I-I-I-I-I-I-I— I-I-I-I-I-I— sorry— I-I-I-I-I-I—" He screws his eyes shut. "Lottie, I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I— shut up!"

"I didn't say—"

"Not you!" He's glaring at something behind you. At nothing behind you. A tree? No, there's a glimmer of strings: he's glaring at Teddy.

Teddy! Has Teddy been watching?! You glare too. "Leave Gil alone!"

"...You don't need to..."

"Yes I do! He's psyching you out! Come on. Deep breath. Positive thinking. Say whatever last nice thing you were going to say about me. I don't know how you have any left, so this one's got to be really good, right?" You take Gil's hands.

He almost smiles, but it fades. He's really, really, really red. "No, I-I-I don't think..."

"Don't chicken out now! Come on! Do it for me! For God, Gil. Do it or I'll smite you."

He takes a deep breath, like you asked, which is good. "Okay. Um. I— I really— I-I-I like— you— more— I-I-I— uh— I-I-I-I-I-I-I— I-I-I-I-I-I can't— I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I can't— I-I-I'm sorry— I can't. I can't. We should— we should go. Find the worm."

"No, wait. What if I read your mind?" (A flash of terror over his face.) "Okay, um, I won't do that. I'll merely use my masterful detectiving. Um, it's something about me. What you think about me? You like me more than something? But you can't say it. Let's see..."

You think. You think. Then, all it once, it comes to you. "Gil, you stupid bastard!" You scramble to your feet. "What are you even scared about?! I feel the same way!"

More terror— not the reaction you wanted. He'll be okay once you air it out. You take a deep breath of your own. "I— okay, I shouldn't say— I know why you're scared. Um, it's scary, honestly. I haven't ever... maybe you have, but I haven't... yeah. I have more rules. But it's okay, because we're in it together, right? We're..."

You steel yourself to say it. Eyes up. He likes you. He's not leaving. He feels the same way, and he's as nervous about it as you are. Deep breath, same as his. Three, two, one.

"...friends."

"What?" Gil says weakly.

"We're friends, Gilbert. I mean, you're— you're still my retainer. You don't stop being that. But you can be my friend too." You're wringing your hands. "My, um, best friend. I'm promoting you. I— I'd say best friend forever, except I'm going to have to be God pretty soon. And I don't know how that'll impact things. But best friend until then. And I don't care if anyone else tries to make friends with me! Because nobody can be better than you. You're— you're number one. In both ways. Best and... first. So."

(7/8)