Sophie regarded the situation critically... there was a 2cm tall little man on her plate, surrounded by the crumbs remaining of her morning's cookies (the rest long consumed and somewhere along her digestive tract by now). So surely he should know what a dangerous place her plate was for shrinkies, given the implications... yet here he was, dozed off against a larger cookie crumb, obliviously asleep... in this state he wasn't as much delectable as adorable.

He must be exhausted, Sophie reasoned with a smile. Climbing her kitchen table was hard work for a little guy, after all. For his efforts, he almost deserved eating all the cookie crumbs he wanted - they were too minuscule for her appetite, ironically. But the thought of awarding him did inspire her next idea.

"Hey," she whispered sharply, causing the shrinkie to finally jolt awake. Laser focused on his microscopic movements, she predicted he would try making a run for it, unless she made her point clear first. "Please don't run, I won't hurt you," she said. Not yet....

Sophie kept her eyes on him, observing his trembling limbs, the rapid hyperventilation of his chest, clear signs of distress... so he was aware he was gonna become literal shit-- uh, he was in potentially deep shit, figuratively. She wanted him calmer, less afraid, more trusting for her plan. It was funnier when they cooperated. She had to break the ice cold grip his fear had on him, somehow. So she kept talking.

"I'm Sophie," she introduced herself. "I've got a pet Shrinkie, didn't'cha know?"

The little man was shaking less, but didn't respond.

Sophie sighed. "Don't you know that means I'm friendly?"

"No, I don't know!" the little one called back. He was so tiny, she almost didn't hear him! But she was attuned to hearing their screams- er, their cute little voices, so holding a conversation with one wasn't impossible.

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"I'll prove it," she offered, and brought her bag of potato chips up to the table where he could surely see it. "You can have my chips. They're still fresh."

The Shrinkie perked up at that. "Seriously?" Sophie smiled at at his curiosity as she seemed to have his interest, as most anything else the tinies usually ate was stale leftovers. "But why should I trust you?" he reconsidered. Though he was right to be doubtful, Sophie didn't want to betray that yet.

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"Here," she said, setting the bag down on the plate so its opening faced the little man, revealing to him all its golden, greasy, glory; sliced perfection, salted excessively, succulently oil-fried; enough calories to feed an entire army of Shrinkies.

Sophie stood up. "I'll get some water, I'm getting thirsty just imagining you diving into those chips-" She covered her mouth abruptly at the unintended phrasing, and she hoped the little guy didn't pick up on it - he seemed not to, as he stood up himself, but not to run - he was watching the bag intently, transfixedly...

"You'll be thirsty," she clarified with a grin, leaving the table, and leaving the Shrinkie to choose his next move. The overpoweringly nitrogenated scent of the potato chips must be intoxicating to him, that and the opportunity... to finally get some good food, for a Tiny... the way she left things, he would have no choice but to climb into the bag...

inside it...

and exactly where she wanted him to be...