'Why do you all carry guitars?' I ask one of the guardians on his way to arrest our new Giant friend.
This one grinned, flashing teeth that he'd weirdly sharpened into fangs. Then he angled his guitar, so the head was facing the Giant. 'How about I show you?'
'There's no need for that,' the Giant cried, waving his hands in a panic. 'I'm already leaving.'
The guardian was still grinning with anticipation, moving his right hand across the fingerboard, and with one prolonged strum of the strings, a sound wave shot out to affect everything in its path. The empty seats above rattled against their fixings, and despite the Giant's size, he was swept off his feet, now unmoving after hitting his head against the back wall.
