She holds up the jug she has purchased and enclosed by pale pink tissue, since Pierce, despite the fact that these are his companions, never worries about such minor subtleties. She watches him, sees the work it takes him not to look behind.
'You do realize that lassie, don't you?'
His eyes mess up, as though she's said something distraught. 'What are you on about?' He pounds on the entryway with his clench hand, as though caught inside a room. But then they are outside.
'Quit being unusual,' she demands. 'You knew which house she emerged from too.'
He gazes at her, his eyes dark. Briefly, she fears there will be a rehash of this evening – in the event that not presently, later.
However, the entryway opens. From inside comes an impact of warmth, of music. Pierce ventures forward, all
