Wensleydale opened the front door quietly*, taking a seat on the step above Brian's. Ever since after the barbecue, Brian had been moping around the Manor. Which was understandable, of course, but Wensley felt he had the right to be worried when his most energetic friend had turned into a slug.

"How are you doing?"

*As quietly as you could open the rusty old doors, anyways; there was a considerable amount of creaking besides.