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“It’s tough being a fish billionaire,” Idaho chuckles. “So many bloodworms, so little time…”

It’s not a funny joke, but the little rasboras laugh. They believe this keeps them in his confidence.

Betty sighs. Idaho seems so shallow, but she knows he’s hiding something. She wanders onto the castle balcony. She feels him follow her. She looks up.

There’s a spotlight bouncing off the tank’s surface. In the middle is a silhouette of something–a winged creature, maybe, or a betta, flared…

“The Batman-Fish-Signal!” Betty shivers. “That thing worries me. You’ll protect me, won’t you? Idaho?”

But Idaho’s gone.


Betty and Idaho mingle into each other at a cocktail party. A fish cocktail party. Because they’re fish.



“I’m working on a new fiction,” Betty says casually. “Kind of a metaphysical adventure.”

Idaho blinks, which is how fish nod. “Yeah? What’s the premise?”

Betty needs little prodding. “Well, you know the Ick? Its scientific name actually depends on the use of ours. Ichthyophthirius. Ichthyo. See? It’s like–our worst fear is only an extension of ourselves.”

Idaho blinks again, impressed.

“Just something I came up with a while back.” Betty sips her fish-margarita. “Fresh, huh?”

Way fresh,” says Idaho.