A fruit fly buzzes progressively closer to my cup of coffee, so I cast a warning “hey” in its direction, using the same tone I take with Haku when he’s about to cross a line. And my warning is just about as effective when sure enough the fly ends up trapped on the surface of the (fortunately) lukewarm coffee.
Expecting this all along, I quickly dab a finger to the fly’s rescue and leave it to dry on a napkin, blowing on it a little to gently help the process. The fruit fly seems to recover shortly thereafter and flies away, perhaps lessons learned.
And little while later it’s back buzzing around my face as though nothing happened. T manages to walk in right as I’m waving it away, but from his perspective it looks like a lot of gesticulating at nothing.
T: “what are you up to?”
Me: “oh, just battling it out with this fly”
Later into the afternoon, I happen to notice the fruit fly is back on my desk and looking to be in a sad state. And not too long after, it ceases to move. It’s still there.
Poor dear still managed to die today.