“Bostwick,” Emmaline began tentatively, “do you think, maybe, you could take me out of your pocket?”
“Well, It's just… a little too much jostling for my tastes.”
In reality, the repeated swaying and bumping that came with riding in the magician's side coat pocket had given her a combination of nausea and headache, but she had been raised to put things delicately, and moreover, the magician had done enough complaining for both of them that day.
“You want me to carry you again?” Bostwick asked in a resigned tone.
“I can try hopping beside you for a while.”
“Okay.” He gently pulled her out of his pocket, still a little unsure of how exactly to hold a rabbit that was actually a person, and set her on the rocky path beside him. “But try to keep up.”