They sat up, and it became clear that the figure was indeed Curly. I must have managed to hold onto him when I was thrown. But how was he tangible, off the screen? He looked at me with a mixture of confusion and concern, scanning our surroundings. In fact, he even pulled out a sign with a question mark on it.

A thought crossed my mind, and I checked myself again. No paws or claws—I was myself again.

"Where are we... Who are you?" he asked in a voice that seemed disproportionately mature for his short stature. It carried a hint of worry, resonating with a depth that defied his physical presence.

"What are you?" I asked in return, taken aback by the contrast between his small frame and the richness of his voice.

Both of us seemed too stunned to answer any of the questions. Curly's gaze shifted to the projector. "Wasn't I just..." He turned back to me, his eyes filled with a mixture of astonishment and bewilderment. "What did you do? Did the Toxin Troop set you up for this?"

"No, as I mentioned before, I am not affiliated with this 'Toxin Troop'," I assured him, my words laced with sincerity.

Curly stood up, his stature petite but his presence commanding. He surveyed our surroundings with an air of trepidation, his eyes darting from one corner to another. It was remarkable how his small form belied the strength of character emanating from within.

Eager to understand our predicament, I also sat up and took a sweeping glance around. This part of the studio was unfamiliar to me, shrouded in an aura of mystery and uncertainty.

Curly appeared visibly frightened and sought solace behind me, his wide eyes scanning the area for any sign of danger. Despite his diminutive stature, he exuded an aura of resilience and determination, like a steadfast sentinel guarding against unseen threats.

Glancing around, it seemed like Becca had left that monstrous projector creature behind. I blinked for a moment, momentarily captivated by the enigmatic presence that surrounded Curly. There was a grace and poise to his movements, as if his stature was inconsequential compared to the strength that resided within.

Eager to press forward and seek assistance, I took a few steps, trying to find a way out of this labyrinth.

"Wait!" Curly's voice called out from behind me, its resonance wrapping around me like a cloak of determination.

I turned to face him, captivated by the unwavering spirit that emanated from his being. "Can... I come with you?" he asked, his voice carrying a blend of vulnerability and resilience.

Rebecca pondered the request for a moment. This tangible cartoon wanted to accompany her. "I suppose," Becca replied, might as well be able to say I walked with a cartoon off the screen to anyone interested. She bent down slightly, offering him a place upon her shoulders.

He settled upon her shoulders, his presence defied his small appearance, yet he was still rather light, as if he wasn't even on Becca's shoulders.

The unlikely pair wandered the hall, one walking to leave, and one sitting to return back to the screen.