"Sure. It'll give me time to dry off before I track mud all over your shop. Besides, I need to talk to you about something."

"All right," I said, leading the way to the cafe. When we entered, he picked a booth near the back instead of my usual window-table, and I peered through the kitchen hatch at Carmen.

"Hiya!" she said.

"The service here is terrible," I replied.

"Watch it! I'll set my fiancée on you."

"Yes, Carmen, we all know you're getting married," I drawled.

"Anyway, what'll it be?"

"Lucas!" I called.

He looked at me, startled. "Uh, hamburger please."

I turned back to Carmen. "Hamburger, no pickles, fries, chicken salad sandwich on toast – make that two fries."

She cocked an eyebrow at me. "You boys want to split a shake?"

"Don't start trouble, Trouble," I replied, and went back to sit down. "So. You wanted to talk."

"Yeah..." he cut his eyes away nervously. "After last time we...had one of those talks, I thought maybe it'd be better in town. We might shout less."

"If I remember, I did most of the shouting last time," I said.

"I didn't mean – "

"It's fine. I'm sorry. I was only worried about you..." I trailed off, because what he'd actually said had only just caught up with me. "Uh. Is this about...that?" I asked.

He couldn't do it. I understand now why he couldn't; he couldn't say the words. Sometimes we can't. Even when they don't sound like madness.

"Things aren't the way I thought they would be," he said finally. "I see that now and I'll get used to it, I'm sure I will...Christ." He rubbed his forehead. "Maybe we shouldn't talk in public anyhow. Thank you," he added shyly to Carmen as she set down our water glasses.

He was uncomfortable with the silence, I could see that. He looked anxiously for something to talk about and, in his nervousness, came up blank.

"What do you think would sell best in the shop?" I asked, nodding at the bag of masks by his feet. "I can sell them on consignment, or if you want I'll buy them for credit."

"I'll pick some out, I guess." He looked uncomfortable.

"You don't have to. Business between friends can get a little awkward."

"Oh, no, I just...sometimes feel weird asking for money for them. I see all their flaws, you know?"

"Worried people will want their money back?" I asked. "Lucas, the Friendly are good judges of quality. If they'd take your masks in payment, you have nothing to worry about from Low Ferry. Pick me out some good ones and I'll sell them for you."

He nodded. Carmen emerged with our food and set it down, plates steaming a little.

"Enjoy," she said, winked at Lucas, and walked away before she got the full, glorious view of his ears turning bright pink.

"Are you tutoring today?" I asked, around a mouthful of food.

"Yep," he replied. "English today, shouldn't be too hard."

"What are they studying?"

He smiled -- small but honest, full of pleasure. "Term projects. They're doing a report on fairy tales. The boy's idea."

"That should be interesting. I have a copy of Hans Christian Andersen back at the shop," I added. He chuckled.

"They're more interested in the Brothers Grimm," he said. "I think the boy's looking forward to finally getting to shock his teachers a little. Cinderella's sisters dancing themselves to death in hot iron boots, that sort of thing."

"Brutal little kiddies. I approve," I answered, and took another bite of food. "Right up your alley, anyway, huh? The truth behind the pleasantries?"

He gave me an odd look, full of regret and an odd kind of resolution. "Suppose so."

Once we'd finished and he'd quietly insisted on paying, I left him at the front of the cafe.

"I'll come by this evening before I leave for The Pines, drop off some masks," he said. "Will you be around?"

"Where would I go?" I asked with a grin.

That evening I left the lights on in the shop and carefully did not hang the Closed sign, though I gave discouraging looks to my few evening patrons. It was well past dark and I was beginning to think Lucas had forgotten – or had decided to stand me up, which given his shyness wouldn't have been unexpected – when Nameless appeared. He pawed politely, not at easily-scratched green paint on the door itself but on the weathered wooden frame. I opened the door and he snorted, shaking snow off his feet as he walked in.

"Hiya, Nameless," I said, shutting the door behind him. "Staying the night?"

He turned to face me and whined, backing towards the fire as if inviting me along. I went to pick up a book and he barked; chastised, I glanced down at him, then crouched and rubbed his fur just below his ears.