Oh my. Supernumerary. I'm not sure I've ever appreciated just how complex he is before now. I'm also a little torn on how I view him in this story. On the one hand, putting him in charge of Henry really shows how awful he is about taking other people's feelings into account, and his utter lack of any bedside manner with a child is pretty cringe-y, and I see why his general attitude makes it difficult for him to get along with others. But at the exact same time, I feel heavy sympathy for Nume, because if I suddenly had a small child thrust into my home, able to interact with my possessions, requiring me to divert my attention away from the activities I want to work on, and throwing off my standard routine, I would feel pretty moody and annoyed, too. Does this mean . . . Does this mean that I'm as much of a jerk as Supernumerary is? Oh dear.
I very much approve of nuanced Luxury! If only because it would make her a lot easier for me to write, if I ever feel a need to include her somewhere. It's interesting to see the contrast between her and Nume, because while Nume is undeniably the more mature of the two, he's completely at a loss at interacting with Henry, while that comes naturally to Luxury. Yet Nume continues to call her a ditz in his mental narration, even as she takes better control of the Henry situation than he ever had.
I had to reread the paragraph that starts, "In an Escher room, pursuing a kid he hadn’t wanted to babysit . . ." about three times, because the parallels with Labyrinth are almost too magical and beautiful to be believed. The Jareth cameo makes it all the more amazing . . . the narrative laws are in full force in this story, possibly more so than in other PPC story I can recall reading! The busy hallway, the jello, the glass, the Escher room . . . poor Nume!
—doctorlit, a jerk like Supernumerary