“Charades?” Harold raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Is that right, Dill? It is Dill, isn't it?”
A thumbs-up gave him an affirmative.
“Go on then. Five words, was it?”
The golem shook its head and held up one hand again.
Harold frowned. “I can't tell what it's trying to say. Charades is very difficult when the mime has no separated fingers.”
Jasfoup smirked. “If it hadn't been for the advent of texting, I think today's youth would have stopped developing thumbs.”
“I think you'll find that humans evolve in the opposite direction. Between phones and video games, I fully expect thumbs to become fully prehensile in the future.”
“Tell that to whoever cast this golem.”
Ada gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “Why don't we give it a pen and paper to write down how many words it's trying to mime?”
“That's a good idea.” Harold pulled a memo pad off the fridge and tore off the first pace which declared eggs... cheese... tampons. “Here you go, Dill. Write down how many words you're trying to mime.”
The armoured golem took the pen and paper. It waster the first two sheets trying to work the pen and scale down the letters from fist-sized to legible, but he managed it on the third attempt.
Harold took the sheet and read it out. “Where is my computer?” He looked at Dill. “I thought you were going to mime it?”
“Give him a break Harold.” Jasfoup took the sheet of paper. “This is easier than having to act it all out.”
“I was looking forward to guessing.”