“The whole world.” Sam glanced around. “Did you say they were supposed to feed you?”
“Er,” Leo said, regarding a small forlorn tray of pastries, and one of colorful pieces of fruit, on the table.
“Not seriously.”
“No, I think someone’s supposed to come and ask me about lunch orders.” He was hungry, after all. He wandered over. Began poking at fruit.
“Don’t you have a PA? Some sort of assistant?”
“Me? Not at all. I’m not famous enough for that.”
Sam had clearly been about to say something else; his mouth was open. He visibly switched replies. “Why not? I mean, Castlereigh was basically a cultural phenomenon…you had six seasons, and that giant international audience…and Doctor Cosmos…and all the movies you’ve done, Green Knight and that World War Two spy thriller, and, like…you were ev
