By ignoring what she was saying and focusing my entire consciousness on moving, I managed to slowly force one hand . . . then an arm . . . inside her embrace. Summoning my fast fading strength, I levered my arm sideways, breaking her grip and allowing myself a desperately needed rush of air.
Okay. So it wasn’t particularly affectionate, or even polite. It’s just that I’ve picked up some annoying, selfish habits over the years . . . like breathing.
“What’s the matter, Skeeve?” Bunny said in a concerned voice, peering at me closely. “Are you all right?”
“UUUUH hah … UUUUH hah . . . ,” I explained, realizing for the first time how sweet plain air could taste.
“I knew it!” she snarled. “Tananda kept saying you were all right . . . every time I asked she kept saying the same thing . . . that you were all right. The next time I see that little . . .”
“I’m . . . fine . . . Really, Bunny. I’m … fine.”
Still trying to get my lungs working on their own, I reached out a tentative finger and prodded her biceps.
“That was . . . quite a ‘Hello,’ ” I said. “I never realized . . . you were so … strong.”
“Oh, that,” she shrugged. “I’ve been working out a little while you were gone . . . like every night. Not much else to do evenings. It’s an easier way to stay in shape than dieting.”
“Working out?”
My breathing was almost back to normal, but my head still felt a little woozy. “Sure. You know, pumping iron?” I had never realized that simple ironing could build up a woman’s arms that much. I made a mental note to start sending our laundry out.