"A Snape muse?" Alan stopped admiring his silver and green nails and shook his head. "Next there'll be a Jamie-muse, and a Rasputin-muse, and (God forbid) a Sherrif-muse. This has honestly gone too far."
"Well I'm just telling you what I've heard." Clive sat back in his high backed leather chair that had mysteriously appeared one day.
"I, myself, have been hearing the strangest things." Jason interupted. "Chanting, and sword fights and all this talk about Harry-bloody-Potter. Not a word said about me."
"Or me." Alan pouted.
"Or me." Clive smouldered.
"I think we've got some media stars on our hands." Jason concluded. "An entire hoarde or media stars."
"Stars!" Alfonza leapt across the wardrobe. "There are stars?! You must show me the stars. I am passionate about those things. Just paaaaaaaassionate."
"And you never know." Ben played a fast set of the notes on the piano, amused when Tori repeated the same notes in a lilting, disjointed manner. "They might need body guards now that they're stars."
"Body guards!" Alfonzo whipped out his handy lighter and held it high. "I will be the most paaaaaaaaaasionate body guard ever. I will ravish the groupies . . ."
"Um . . . yes." Jason looked at Alan. "Would body guards really be a good idea?"
"Well, I think we probably should have invested in them before we were shoved in here, but they can't hurt. After all, we don't want to see our lovely friends shoved into some one elses wardrobe, do we now?"
"What about her?" Ben played a few lines from One Angry Dwarf and pointed at Susan. "She'd be the perfect body guard. You'd just have to promise her cake."
"CAKE!" Exclaimed Susan, throwing herself at Ben. "I WANT CAKE!"
. . . to be continued . . .