Witnesses would later say that a whirlwind of napkins, squealing in Rubatoian about some demon, rushed out of the restaurant and upended two dozen dessert carts before blowing away into the street. Some claimed that this whirlwind planted a kiss on half the waitresses before it reached the doors.

Marcel burst out onto the street, cupped his hands around his mouth, and screamed: "Arieeeeeeetaaaaaaahhh!"

A swirling orb of wind smacked him across the face when he shut his mouth. Various waitresses watching from the windows of the restaurant cheered.

Marcel whimpered and rubbed his stricken cheek. "What was that for?" he cried to some figure beyond the waitresses' line-of-sight. The whole lot of them mumbled enraged answers to the boy's question.

"You shouldn't have yelled my name like that, you dolt! I told you to be inconspicuous! Didn't you listen at all?"

There was a general murmur along the lines of, "Nosorryit'llneverhappenagain."

"It better not," Arietta snapped. She grabbed Marcel by the collar and shoved him back out of the waitresses' vision, and then strode out before the big windows herself, cloak pulled over her head. The giggles in the restaurant stopped.

Smiling to herself, Arietta Madrigal opened the door and walked inside.

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He...lo...what?

Bloody hell, some part of Tracey wanted to yell. Lo?--those two little letters were the most misleading letters in the world! Everyone wanted to think they led to just one statement, especially when spoken with that much emotion (no one chokes on "Honey, I lost the car keys in the sofa"), but the thing was, you never knew. Or, in Tracey's case, you never suspected. You never made assumptions without facts to back them up. And the facts in this situation said that she really hadn't the faintest idea of what stage in a relationship someone would say...that.

The girl had to bite her tongue to keep herself from blurting anything out as Monroe continued walking and talking. At some point, she realized that he wanted more than a just a nod to agree to what he was telling her, and she paused to concentrate on what he'd said before calmly saying, "I...want to help however I can." How much that actually meant, she didn't know--they were talking about a god here, and well...she was just an average human who was just a touch brighter in the mental department. She still couldn't wrap her mind around the mystical and the magical and all, even after her encounters with the Madrigals and people from the Dome. What could she do?

As Monroe turned onto other street, Tracey surveyed the neighborhood they were entering and felt the need to ask, "Where exactly are we going?"

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[R. I. P. Duke of Clubs (11/15/92 - 1/5/08)]