His sounds, were they. His 'sounds.' She seemed to speak with unnecessary derision. The toad's eyes sunk half-way down into its bulbous head. He thought this form had a fine voice, by toad standards. It was certainly adequate. And it had been the first thing he'd learned to use. Ellipses were not necessary to describe it, thank you. It wasn't as if her voice was a treat to the ears.

...Where were his ears?

>> "Maybe I should ask you yes or no questions."

She got his hopes up.

>> "Think about it. I am going to the library to find a book on amphibians. I'll be right back."

And then she left the room.

The toad was left sitting on her desk, one eye twitching as the door closed behind her. Her parting advice was drowned out in his editorial CROAK. How about she try asking if he was Slate? How was that for a yes-or-no question?

So the toad was left alone.

With all of her personal belongings.

...Cro-croak.

The witch returned about half an hour later, carrying a pile of books high enough to rest her chin on. It was all books in the Mansion library's possession that had anything to do with frogs, toads, amphibians, or wildlife on the East coast in general.
Plus a Grimm's Fairy Tales, just in case.

"I'm back." she announced, nudging the door open with her foot "I can't say the library is prepared for research on people turned into amphibians, but I brought what I could find."

She set the pile of books down on the table, making sure there was no toad under it, and that it was steady, before she let go with both hands.

"So. First thing to do is determine your species..."

The witch returned about a half an hour later. The toad did not see the nerdly stack of books she carried, nor did he note the care she took to make sure he wasn't under them when she set them on the desk. Furthermore, he disagreed with her stated first course of action. A croak came from the side of the desk, along with a rattling of plastic against wood.

Calley's first foray from the desk had ended in the trash can.

There was no toad on the desk. Susan checked under the pile of books again, and was thoroughly relieved there was no flat toad there either.
"Slate?..." she looked around "Slate? Um... could you croak please?"
Croak.
Susan saw the green and mud colored sound bubbling up from the side of the desk.
"There you are" she sighed, peeking into the trash can with curiosity "What are you doing in there?"
Since it was illogical to assume that Slate wanted to be in the trash for a specific purpose, Susan reached into the can and fished the toad out, brushing pieces of paper off him before she set him back onto the desk.
"I'd be more careful if I were you." she said, opening the first book from the top of the pile "Now sit still."
It took three books and a lot of pages to find the toad she was looking for. It resembled Slate in his current form, and had all kinds of interesting information attached.
"There." she said triumphantly, setting the book down "Colorado River toad. Bufo alvarius."

The urge to sarcasm was strong. Strong within the toad.

>> "What are you doing in there?"

Stronger, it grew.

Perhaps he should be grateful to her, for taking him out of the cold and into her room, for picking him out of the trash, and for brushing pieces of paper off of his toady head while one of his legs involuntarily kicked. In fact, he was grateful. Yes. But.

>> "I'd be more careful if I were you."

The urge to sarcasm.

>> "Now sit still."

Continued to grow.

As the bookworm burrowed, Calley made a point of--thank you very much--not sitting still. The sooner he learned this form completely, the sooner he'd be able to shift back. Sometimes it only took a few hours. Or, at least, that's how long it used to take. Since that little incident with Luke sonar-blasting his mind, the quickest he'd mastered a form was three days.

Calley fought his depression with hopping. Hop. Hop. He caved to his sarcastic urges by hopping her book stacks. Hop. H--thunk. (Her book stacks occasionally won.)

>> "There. Colorado River toad. Bufo alvarius."

Croooo, the toad commented levelly, squaring its legs as it sat directly in front of her, ack.

While Susan read on, toad-Slate hopped around the desk, occasionally bouncing off book stacks. The witch absent-mindedly cleared the pencils and other sharp objects out of the way - she didn't want the toad to impale itself on something.
She also wondered if he'd change back if he died.
The last croak didn't carry visible traces of curiosity. That made Susan wonder. Even more because she had just found something that Slate would probably find fascinating too.
"So, it looks like I changed you into a poison toad." she concluded, setting the book down so Slate could see the picture and the text "Apparently - and if the, um, spell worked as it should - your skin produces poison as well as bufotenine, which is a psychoactive hallucinogen substance..." she read on "Oh, good. Possession of the frog is not a crime, but keeping the frog with the intent of milking it and smoking the venom is punisheable..."
Susan gave Slate a long look, and her eyes turned yellow. She blinked several times.
"I won't smoke anything you produce." she announced. Naturally.
Putting the book aside, Susan sighed.
"Truth is, I have no idea how to change you back." she admitted, resting her chin on the edge of the desk, so her eyes were on toad level. "You know, in the original version of the legend, you have to smash the toad against the wall instead of kissing it..."
It was just an interesting bit on information. No harm intended.

She took away all the pointy objects. Calley was split between appreciating that, and resenting the kiddy-toad-proofing. He settled on a happy median of ignoring what she'd done.

>> "So, it looks like I changed you into a poison toad."

"Croak?"

She turned the book so he could see, and went on with her science jargon. The moral of the story: he was a legal toad. Just not legal to… milk. How lovely. How did a person even go about milking a toad, per se? He didn't exactly have udde--wait, did he? No. No, he didn't. Calley put his toady forelegs on the book, and surveyed the page's contents with great toad skepticism. No description of this so-called 'milking' was offered. Which was… perhaps just was well.

>> "I won't smoke anything you produce."

There was a pause before she said that. A pause, and a freaky eyes-changing-color-thing. Was she like Cafas? Did her eyes signal her moods?

…Should yellow worry him?

>> "Truth is, I have no idea how to change you back."

Her chin came down to toad level. Calley hopped over the book (displaying, with modest pride, his new hopping skills), and came to a rest next to her cheek. He gave it a consoling, toad-footed pat. She really was trying hard. Even if she was a friend of Slate's, distinctly odd, and distinctly wrong in her theory.

>> "You know, in the original version of the legend, you have to smash the toad against the wall instead of kissing it..."

Toad. Foot. Retracted. Calley sat very still for a moment. Then he puffed. There was only one correct reply to that.

Happily, he learned that toads could hiss.

Susan blinked at the toad foot on her cheek. It was weird, getting patted by a toad. Even if it was Slate... No. Especially because it was Slate.
Her last comment earned a hiss. It was a very impressive hiss. Susan could see all kinds of anatomical details inside the toad mouth.
"You seriously think I would do that to you?" she rolled her eyes "It would leave a mark on the wall." she added with a smirk. Just so the toad didn't get the wrong idea.
"The best I can think of right now it to wait and see if the spell wears off. And keep researching for other possibilities." she sighed and sat back, staring at the toad "So I guess you'll be living with me till then. Unless you want others to find out about, um, your condition. So."
Susan was not great at having guests in her room. Roomates usually took care of themselves.
"Are you hungry?"

Her smirk was not comforting to his toady, would-mark-the-wall self.

Her plan, though, passed his amphibious approval. Especially that 'wait and see if the spell wears off' part: he heartily endorsed that with a straight toady back and squared toady feet. In fact, the less researching for other possibilities she did, the more reassured the toad would be.

Also: a fly had settled on her stack of books. He could see it, out of the corner of one bulging eye. It was really distracting. The way it was… sitting there.

>> "So I guess you'll be living with me till then. Unless you want others to find out about, um, your condition. So."

Yeah. Yeah, it was just as well if certain Mansion goers didn't find out about his condition. Kat would be helpful: trying to hop-lead Susan down the hall to her room could draw the wrong sort of attention, though. The kind that start with a 'C.' The kind that his mind shut down at the thought of answering, just now. His thoughts leapt elsewhere: to the fly. Yes. The fly was safe to think about. The fly didn't l—didn't say things he didn't want to know about. It just sat there, cleaning itself with its front legs.

This toad thing. It might not be so bad for awhile.

>> "Are you hungry?"

Calley's tongue flicked out, almost faster than the human eye could follow. One of the books was knocked off the stack: a rapidly vibrating wing stuck out of Calley's mouth. Another lick finished tucking it neatly inside.

Flies. Slate was eating flies. Susan only got a glance of the insect before it disappeared in the toady mouth; she was very very glad that for that brief moment her sense of taste didn't decide to wander.
"Umm. All right then." she nodded, waiting till the toad swallowed "If, umm... you need anything else to eat, just... let me know."
Picking up the toad, she set him down on the carpet.
"Feel free to wander. Just don't leave the room." she said as she picked up a book and settlend on her bed. She kicked a pillow on the ground "There. You. Are not allowed in the bed."
With that made clear, the witch started to read again. There must be a spell somewhere that can change that toad back into Slate.

And thus the tale of the frog prince began...

((Continued in Froggy Went A-Courtin'. Guest stars: Princess Twyla, Cafas and Mirror))