“Oo, I like it! A Treasure Hunt!” the Master says to his hand. “Hide and Seek, even!”
Then he looks at the note one more time before raising it to his mouth and chewing.
Well, you know what they say… what’s good for the goose is good for the gander.
By the time he’s swallowed the sticky note completely, he’s already out the door and off to the nearest guard station, whistling and humming that song from Snow White.
But the table is not finished yet.
And neither is it a table.
Quickly, it grows fingers from legs, and an upper palm from tabletop.
And then it shrinks to size, proper hand-size, rather than the conspicuity of a table who might scrabble away on its own.
Off to the medical bay it happily tromps, behind feet and footsteps and on the backs of unsuspecting guards, to pay a visit to its only living master.