The scene. An ordinary day. A couple of weeks ago. I sit upstairs in our bedroom, painting my toenails a nice shiny plum, when without warning...
SANGU: You've got to be effing kidding me.
ECHO: You weren't expecting me, then?
SANGU: No, as a matter of fact, I wasn't. I mean, Echo, for God's sake, I'm painting my toenails. Can't you come back later?
ECHO: That colour doesn't suit your toes. Why don't you try the red instead? I don't see why you haven't been expecting me. You know patience isn't, well, my strongest suit. It's not even one of my suits! Put yourself in my shoes! After the way you ended the book, can you blame me for being a teensy bit antsy? When do I get to find out what happens next? When am I to be, once again, nearly killed, tormented, betrayed, loved and loathed?
SANGU: I suppose you're trying to make a point. If you think I treat you so unfairly -
ECHO: I didn't say that. I'm only trying to point out that you could be a little kinder. There's only so many times someone can be nearly killed before their luck runs out, you know!
SANGU: Well, that's my business. Leave me alone. [Echo looks hurt and Sangu immediately feels guilty.] Sorry.
ECHO: So... Chapter One, then?
SANGU: Echo! I can't write Book Two yet, okay? I have to work on something new in case Book One doesn't sell!
ECHO: But that's silly. I tell a great story.