Not entirely stupid, or possibly entirely too terrified to do much more than squeak and gape as she brings them around sharp corners and through narrow alleys. God, if he dies as an eight year old. He wonders what the obituary might say: Poor child, only eight years of age. Hardly even got the chance at life before mowed down by a crazy cyclist he thought was his friend.

What a nightmare.

"Flavia, please be careful," he tries to warn her as she stands up, letting out another yelp. Perhaps he ought to have just gone quietly with the cop, instead. "It's me, Marius! I...kind of shrunk overnight."