Polp flinches as the first drops start hitting him, and ducks in a crouching position under his donkey as the raining picks up.
“Ouch! This thing stings! It’s just like Uncle Phelin said: You can’t trust those crazy open-up worlds, they’ll throw anything on your head: water, lightning, even cold showers of strange white wetness.”
“I don’t suppose you have any underground gardens here?”
Hmm...did we, by any chance, level up?