“Hmm?” Colby said absently. “Oh. Yes. More cream puffs, I’d say. With the…well, the cream filling.”
“The images,” Leo said. “My brain.”
“No cream filling on the table,” Jill said. “Elsewhere. Go. Have fun.”
“Definitely,” Jason said, “things’ll get…nice and full,” and grabbed Colby’s hand and headed for the door, leaving behind laughter and groans.
They’d walked over from the hotel, and the distance wasn’t far, only a street or two; the night twinkled with diamond mist, and cobblestone streets welcomed footsteps, and crowded shops and pubs stretched upward in historic contentment. The village became a postcard, a sculpture, a model of English country life; Colby fit right in, laughing too and walking just as quickly as Jason. The mist decorated his hair, his eyelashes, the black leather
