I slipped another set of towels into the suitcase, giving Phineas the hairy eyeball. “I’m not sure why you *need* all these, Phin. It’s not like the hotel isn’t going to have them.”

The unicorn snorted, his upper lip curling at me.  “I don’t bother you about that stupid brand of shampoo you insist on hauling around. Daisies, my ass. Besides, the towels are for the glitter.”

I paused. “The what?”

“The glitter,” he said primly. “One can never really underestimate the power of glitter at a convention.”

“Listen, I’m not sure what sort of convention you think this is, but it’s about books. Books and readers and happily ever afters and all that-“

“Bull-boogers. It’s about the bars. And the costume balls. And the midnight erotica readings in the hot tub. And those half naked man-candy models wandering around.” He waggled his chin at me. “Didn’t tell Ion about *that*, now did you?”

My eyes slid sideways. “Not exactly,” I muttered, scowling. “And what do you care anyway? Planning on asking the beefcake if they’re virgins?”

He gave an equine shrug, rubbing his horn against his flank. “Maybe. I’m an equal opportunity ass-biter.”

“I’ve gathered,” I retorted dryly. “So you’re tagging along for the booty? Charming.”

“Well, I’ve always wanted to visit L.A.,” he admitted. “Besides, there’s an open casting call I want to go to. That’s really what I need the glitter for.”

“A casting call for what? Unicorn Porn Ponies III?”

“Please. Have you seen the latest Ke$ha video? I’m all over that like white on rice.” He frowned. “Well except for that rainbow death scene. I can’t cop to that. Still, she *did* stick her tongue in that unicorn’s mouth. I mean, even the name of the song…Blow? Jesus, woman, you can’t get any better than that.”

“Actually, I think you can, but whatever.” I eyed my own costume cautiously. “Just don’t get my faery dress all wrinkled. Moira lent it to me and I’d rather not have to de-fur it when I get there. You want to be a prop?” I grinned at his wounded expression. “I can carry you around in my purse.”

“You want a pile of enchanted raisins in your suitcase?”

“Ewww, no. What the hell are these?” I pointed to the small stack of cards piled neatly at the end of the bed. A closer look revealed a sketch of the unicorn’s face, a pair of underwear dangling from his mouth. “Are those *my* panties in your mouth? Who the hell drew these?” I thrust the card under his nose, my teeth clicking upon the words. “Made of win? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Those are my business cards, Abby.” He pointed primly toward the floor with his horn. “There’s a bag under the bed with the t-shirts. You should totally wear one while you’re there. I’ve got an impression to make. Free wombat porn to watch. Asses to bite. You know?”

“Oh, I’m sure.” My eyes narrowed. “You’re evading the question.”

“No, I’m not. I’m totally made of win. See? It says so, right there.” He blinked up at me. “Go on. Ask me how.” I stared at him fixedly until he began to squirm. “Oh come on. Who *else* has actually seen your damn panties? And has hands?”

“I see. The incubus has a bit of explaining to do.”

“Eh. Maybe he *does* know about the man candy.” Phineas erupted into a fit of snorts that sounded a bit like a constipated hippo on meth. “Hell, maybe he’ll surprise you by showing up for the Mr. Romance contest.”

“Don’t encourage him.” I shuddered, dumping the pile of cards into the suitcase.  “Though that ass of his would be a shoe-in to win. So. Where’s the glitter?”

He stared at me blankly. “The what?”

“The glitter. You’re making me pack extra towels….for glitter. Unless there’s a bag of glitter under the bed too?”

“Ah. No, Abby. I sorta make my own.”

“So, what? It just falls off you like dandruff? That’s disgusting.” He shook his head and opened his mouth to say something and then hesitated. I sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t want to know about this. Never mind.”

“Probably for the best,” he agreed. “Wouldn’t want you getting the wrong impression or anything. Besides, the mystery will keep you coming back for more.”  He grinned up at me. “That’s how I roll, yo.”

“How kind.”

“You gotta have standards.” He pranced past me, blowing a raspberry.

“Yeah. Too bad mine are so low.” I scooped up the bag of t-shirts and shoved them into the corner of the suitcase, as far from my dress as I could make them. “Anything else?” My fingers twiddled absently with the silver collar I’d snagged from the Midnight Marketplace. Jeweled snare, my ass. Not that I really enjoyed muzzling him, but the little shit was a bitch to take on a plane. The collar would not only keep him quiet, but it would have the added bonus of throwing a Glamour on him to make him look like a cat.

“Sorry,” I murmured, slipping it over his head. An indignant meow was my only reply, but the expression in his slitted eyes was enough to let me know I’d better watch my backside for the next few days. Not that it mattered. He’d get it eventually anyway. “Poor puss. I’ll buy you a nice bacon sandwich when we get to the terminal.”

He sniffed and flounced into his carrier, clearly deciding the conversation was over. “Well, at least you don’t have to deal with getting patted down for security.” I threw the remainder of my toiletries into the suitcase and zipped it shut as quickly as I could.

After all, the cab would be here soon…and we had a convention to attend.

-Allison Pang