Sasha pinched the bridge of her nose. “Run this by me one more time?”
Jonny shrugged, perhaps a bit sheepishly. “Daffy Duck is staying with me for a bit.”
“No, that’s what I thought you said, I just must have misunderstood what you meant by it.” Sasha stared at him. “Daffy Duck. The cartoon character.”
“Yeah. The Toon.”
“Is…at your flat. Staying with you.”
“Yeah.”
Sasha seemed to be running over all the possible dialog options for this particular interaction. Jonny knew from experience that anything he said, prior to the next choice, would be stupid, so he held his tongue—with difficulty—and waited, hands jammed in his pockets as they walked. At last, he asked, “And how did he…get there? Parcel post?”
“In a crate with holes?” Jonny shook his head. “You know, I’d have thought that too, but…uh, actually, Frank said they’d got a call from a friend of a friend who needed a place to hole up for a few days and did I have the room. I said sure and…”
“Your bandmate is friends with Daffy Duck.”
“Apparently?” Jonny winced. “Look, this is why I didn’t call you the other night. Frank asked me at the show, and when I got home, he was hiding in the bushes. He’s been holed up on the spare mattress ever since. I’m not sure what’s going on, but, uh…I’d appreciate it if you didn’t, you know, tell anyone he’s there.”
“Oh, of course! Of course that’s something you had to tell me. Otherwise I’d be telling everyone I met that my partner is hiding Daffy Duck in his back bedroom.” Sasha threw up their hands. “What did they serve at that gig of yours? Did someone give you a special cigarette? Or have you just gone completely round the twist?”
“Sash…”
“No, don’t you Sash me. Daffy Duck is a cartoon character. He’s not real. He’s not just walking around hiding in—”
Sasha froze as Jonny unlocked his front door and stepped in, revealing his temporary house guest seated on the sofa, hunched over a tape recorder with one hand tangled in the cat’s fur. He looked up at Jonny with wide eyes behind round gold rimmed spectacles and a broad, obviously forced grin. “Oh—hello!”
“Everything all right?” Jonny grabbed Sasha’s arm and forcibly hauled her into the flat, then shut the door behind them.
“Yep! Yep, jutht—recording thome thoughtth.” Daffy gestured vaguely with the recorder. “Didn’t know when you’d be home. Or, uh…that you wouldn’t be…” He gulped. “Alone.”
“This is my partner, Sasha Sienna. Sasha, meet Daffy Duck.” There was just the faintest hint of I fucking told you so in Jonny’s voice. “It’s okay, she’s not going to say anything. Mostly because they’ve never interacted with a Toon before and don’t think anyone would believe him.”
Daffy’s shoulders slumped slightly. “I know how that feelth,” he muttered. He ran a hand over the top of his head and managed a nod to Sasha. “It’th, um, nithe to meet you.”
Sasha blinked hard, several times, then only said, “Right. You, uh—you’re a friend of Jonny’s?”
“It’th…complicated. There’th a dithtant connection.” Daffy hunched his shoulders and muttered, “I think.”
“Told you. Friend of a friend.” Jonny decided not to mention that Frank hadn’t seemed to know who it was needed a place to stay; all they’d said was someone who called me said he was an old friend of my dad’s. He glanced over towards the kitchen, intending to offer tea, and then paused. “Did you…clean the kitchen?”
“It…theemed fair?” Daffy sounded uncertain. “I mean, you’re offering me a plathe to thtay, no quethtionth athked, and…”
“’S fine. ‘S nice to have someone staying with the Ambassador.” Who was technically Sasha’s cat, but their place didn’t allow pets and Jonny’s did.
“He’th no bother. He mothtly thleepth all day.” Daffy put his feet flat on the floor. “I can go—”
“You’re…it’s fine.” Sasha found his voice and glanced at her sleeping cat. “I’ve got a train to catch. I just came to check on the Ambassador before I left.” They turned to Jonny, and oh, the look in those eyes promised they were going to have a talk after this was all over. “Enjoy your…visit. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks, okay?”
“Text me when you get there.” Jonny pulled Sasha in for a hug and muttered in her ear, “I think he’ll be gone by the time you get back.”
“He better be. I’m not moving in while he’s here,” Sasha muttered back. He kissed his cheek quickly, then left.
Daffy looked…self-conscious, in a way that told Jonny the way he usually was in the cartoons was as much a front as the murderous space pirate he’d been all weekend. “I hope I’m not cauthing any problemth being here.”
“Nah, you’re fine. We’ve been together a couple years now and I’m still convincing Sasha most days that I’m worth taking the chance on.” Jonny sat down next to Daffy and nodded at the tape recorder. “What’s with that? You said you were recording thoughts—why the tape?”
It was the first question he’d really asked since he’d been there, and he wasn’t altogether sure Daffy would answer, and wow he was still getting his head around that concept. Daffy stared at the recorder for a moment, and there was something almost…resigned in his eyes. “We—I uthe them at work. It’th almotht a comfort at thith point.”
“At work? This is a cartoon you’re in?”
“Uh—no, actually. I work for the Magnuth Inthtitute…” Daffy trailed off. “I guethth you’ve heard of that.”
“Heard of it?” Jonny exclaimed. This was either the most amazing luck, or the worst thing that could possibly have happened. “Sure, I know about it. Most people who’ve done research into the paranormal have heard of it at some point. I’ve been using it as the jumping-off point for an audio drama.”
Daffy raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. “What, budget sheetth and truthteeth’ meetingth? Riveting thtuff.”
Jonny, whose day job—so to speak, since he technically worked the night shift—was exactly that level of boring, grinned sheepishly. “No, like…I heard there’s a place where people can go and make statements, tell spooky stories they’ve encountered. Story kind of revolves around the guy who runs that part of the Institute and slowly finds out they’re real.”
“Not all of them,” Daffy murmured. “Jutht thome of them. Maybe ten perthent, at betht.”
“That the official line?” Jonny asked dryly.
Daffy shook his head. “Jutht a thimple obthervation, really. Out of all the thtatementth I’ve lithtened to, there haven’t been that many that are…real.”
“You’ve listened to the—wait, what do you do at the Institute?” Jonny raised his eyebrows. “If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”
“Um—I’m the Head Archivitht,” Daffy admitted.
“Brilliant! You’re exactly who I wanted to talk to,” Jonny said enthusiastically. “I’ve been having a hard time with this concept and…would you be willing to, like, be a consultant or something? Go over what I’ve written so far maybe? Or, like, tell me what you’ve been up to? I’d love to get some realism in here.”
“You don’t want thomething thith real,” Daffy said darkly. “But sure, if you really…where do you want me to thtart?”
Jonny rummaged around in the side table for a minute, then produced the notebook he’d been using to start writing notes about his podcast. “How about at the beginning? How do you know they’re real?”
It quickly became obvious that Daffy had been desperate to talk to someone about all of this for ages, and Jonny was the first person willing to listen. At first he was simply taking notes, assuming it was simply another case of the duck getting caught up in a story he was trying to pitch, until he held up a hand to stop him. “Wait, wait—you keep saying Wile E. Coyote. I thought Ralph Wolf was in cartoons with the Road Runner.”
“That’th what I’m getting to.” Daffy’s voice actually cracked with emotion. “Thomething…took hith plathe. The only one who really rememberth him ith the Road Runner.”
The more he spoke, the more Jonny realized he was serious. Whether this was true or not—and the part of Jonny that was still struggling to accept the presence of a Toon in his flat remained skeptical—Daffy believed it was true. If nothing else, conveying that…belief into his own Archivist would help sell it. And come to think of it, he had heard a couple of people talking about Foghorn Leghorn just the other day in rather hushed tones, so it maybe wasn’t all nonsense.
“So what’s going on now?” he asked finally, as Daffy fell silent. “I mean, why are you…they don’t actually think you killed him, do they?”
“No—no, I don’t think tho,” Daffy said uncertainly. “Bugth knowth I didn’t…but I don’t know what’th going on. I aththume he’ll tell me when it’th thafe for me to come back, but…”
“He knows where you are?”
“Don’t think tho. Unlethth you know Edward Huththein?”
“Name doesn’t—wait, that’s my friend’s dad’s name, I think,” Jonny said slowly. It sounded right, anyway. “You know him?”
“Not exthactly. I knew hith father, a little. He wath a detective back home.” Daffy rubbed his face. “I thuthpect Bugth hath an idea where I am, but…” He looked up and studied Jonny appraisingly. “Thay, I’ve got an idea. You wanted to do rethearch into the Inthtitute, right?”
“Right,” Jonny said warily.
“We have thtudentth uthe the Archiveth all the time. Maybe you could athk for acthethth yourthelf, and you could keep me in the loop about what’th going on. Porky and Tweety are probably dethperate for thomeone to talk to.” Daffy clasped his hands in front of himself and actually batted his eyes at Jonny, but it was clearly put on. “Would you conthider it, pal?”
Jonny hesitated for no more than a second. It was pretty tempting. “Yeah, all right. Who do I need to get in touch with to get in?”