At least there hadn’t been much of a fuss about discharging him.
Partly it was that he was, so far as anyone was aware (and Daffy certainly wasn’t going to disabuse them of that motion), a Toon, and everybody knew Toons just…healed from their injuries, unless it was funnier that they didn’t. And since Daffy Duck had crawled smoking out of bomb craters, snapped his beak back into place repeatedly with little more than a casual glare, and walked around with his scalp dangling down his back pierced through the center with a shotgun shell, it was hardly surprising to them that he had risen from his bed ready to go. To them.
Basira hadn’t said anything, but the looks she was giving him as she drove him through the streets of London made it clear what she wasn’t saying. Daffy did his best to ignore her. If she wanted to yell at him, she could use her words like a grown-up.
Finally, though, he did feel like he needed to say something. “Thorry about the nightmareth.”
Basira braked a little harder than was necessary; Daffy braced himself against the dashboard, grateful that at least he hadn’t slammed into the windshield and snapped back like a rubber band, or bounced around the interior of the car like a Superball. Her hands tightened around the steering wheel briefly, and when she spoke, it was in the sharp, cutting voice of a cop, not the neutral voice of a friend. “How did you know about the nightmares? Were you actually there?
“Yep. Thought it wath jutht me at firtht, but Hadeth dithabuthed me of that notion.” Daffy sighed. “I didn’t do it on purpothe. I would have told you if I’d known.”
“Hm.” Basira pulled through the intersection and changed the subject. “You sure you want to go back to the Institute?”
“I have to. I have work to do.”
“Only…it’s not great there.”
“Have you been by?” Daffy asked, a little surprised.
Basira nodded once, a single jerk of her head. “Thought Tweety could use the help.”
Sudden misgiving seized Daffy. “You’re not…working for the Inthtitute, are you?”
“Not formally,” Basira said, and Daffy could breathe again. “But I pop in a couple times a week. Only working part time right now. Still looking for a real career. Meanwhile, it’s just been Tweety in the Archives on his own. He’s not exactly thrilled about me being there, I don’t reckon, but Bugs keeps telling him it’s only temporary. Not sure he believes that.”
Daffy turned to look fully at Basira. “What about Porky? What’th hith opinion on all thith?”
Basira hesitated. “Look, you sure you don’t want a cup of tea or something? Maybe a milkshake? I feel like maybe you should know all this before you actually go back.”
“Bathira.” Daffy’s stomach was tying itself in knots again.
Basira sighed. “Porky didn’t make it.”
And at that, his stomach dropped all the way out of his body. “What?!”
“Look, how much do you remember?”
Daffy shook his head, trying to think. “There wath…muthic, and danthing, and then Granny and Foghorn Leghorn were there—but it wathn’t them, and—I Thaw what wath going on, and then I blew the plathe up. It’th my betht act, but I can only do it onthe.” He echoed the lines from that long ago cartoon. “I didn’t thee Tweety or Porky, though.”
“Tweety got himself out,” Basira said. “From what he told me, he just sort of…closed his eyes and thought in a straight line and reasoned his way out. Porky never appeared. They didn’t find his body or anything. I kept expecting maybe he’d turn up, but…you know, it’s been months.”
“Monthth,” Daffy echoed hollowly. He was still trying to cope with the revelation that one of his best, oldest friends was just…gone, that he hadn’t been able to save him. “How many monthth?”
“Six, more or less.”
“But Tweety’th okay? And you? You didn’t get caught up in anything?”
Basira’s hands tightened briefly on the steering wheel again, but she shook her head. “Stayed out of it like you told me. Tweety’s…it’s been a lot. There’s been a lot going on. But he wasn’t hurt or anything.”
Daffy nodded slowly. “How’th Bugth taking thingth?”
Basira shrugged. “He’s hard to read.”
“Alwayth wath. Hath he…been by to thee me?”
“Not that I know of. Least I haven’t seen him. Jonny or his mate, what’s his name—Alex? Whichever one you went to deal with that taxidermy shop with—one of them might have seen him. We’ve been taking it in turns to check in on you every day.” Basira sighed. “Just my luck I was the one there when you came round.”
Daffy suspected he should probably be offended by that. He made the conscious choice not to be. “Well…thankth. Jonny and Alexth haven’t been around the Inthtitute, have they?”
Basira shook her head. “Jonny’s pass ran out about the time you went in hospital and Bugs wouldn’t renew it, and Alex couldn’t even get in the front door. I offered to smuggle them into the Archives one afternoon so we could help Tweety out, but Tweety said no. Kind of left him alone after that. He’s been in a mood.”
Daffy swallowed and looked out the window of the car. “Thith ithn’t exthactly going to be a grand and gloriouth homecoming, ith it?”
“Probably not,” Basira agreed neutrally.
Daffy sighed. “I guethth I should have exthpected that. When hath anything in my life ever worked out for me like it’th thuppothed to?”