“Eww.” Even as a ghost Frederick shuddered. “Sometimes people try to cling on to life too long.”
“He was probably hoping he'd be revived when the Fourth Reich had taken over. Then he could concentrate on films about slim Caucasian women who are only happy when a man subjugates them.”
“Isn't that what they do anyway?”
“Some of the modern films have ethnic characters. It's a huge step forward.”
“Pfft.” Frederick snorted. “Token non-white characters who all either subscribe to Caucasian values or resign themselves to being tropes and clichés. Give me my childhood back. You distorted its reality.”
“Talking of distorted reality...” Dill pulled out a wooden chair and perched on the edge of the seat, not because he needed to sit but because it dropped his head nearer to Frederick's level and made for a more intimate conversation. “Any idea how to expose the sigils that allow me to animate? I've tried digging for them for I'm not entirely sure where they are.”
“Haven't a clue.” Frederick nudged the oldest imp. “Here, Devious. Where are Dill's activation symbols?”
“Around his head.” Dill dug his paw into the giant bag of popcorn.
“But how do I access them?”
“Ostendo spectamen.” The imp spoke without even turning, but then twisted in his seat. “What's wrong with them?”
“Oh, nothing.” Dill tried to radiate reassurance. “only that I seem to be stuck in this form. I just wanted the option to jumping to other avatars when I needed to. You know, for fine motor skills, hazardous environments, that sort of thing.”
“Right.” Devious regarded him for several seconds without speaking. “Just let us know when you need something doing. We'll sort it.”
“Okay, thanks.” Dill stood. “Enjoy your film.”
“We will.” Devious turned back to the screen.
Dill returned to the office and the camera mounted on Orias. “At least they told us the spell.”
More of an incantation, I think, but yes.
Dill faced the screen. “Ostendo spectamen.”