Agatha watched a drop of pumpkin juice slowly roll down the youngest trickster's chest as he spoke. She opened her mouth to say something back, but suddenly found herself imagining Barrel in the trio's trademark bathtub, with just enough suds to hide, errr... [i]particular[/i] parts of his otherwise naked body. She continued staring, but it was less [i]at[/i] Barrel now, and more [i]through[/i] him. He had been replaced in her mind by a vision she couldn't shake off.

Carver stopped examining her head and tried to get a "feel" on the witch. Usually when Agatha was directly addressed, her almost aggravating level of politeness was enough to pull her back to the present and force a response. She should have gotten over Barrel's shirtlessness by now. Why...?