"This morning suggests otherwise."
"This morning suggests you shouldn't lurk outside bakeries."
"I wasn't lurking."
"You were definitely lurking."
"I was investigating."
"Investigating through a fogged window?"
"The fogging was unintentional."
"But the investigating was intentional?"
"The investigating was... exploratory."
"That's just a fancy word for lurking."
They were walking across the square as they argued, apparently having decided without discussion that he would escort her despite her protests.
"You know," Marianne said as they reached the bakery door, "for someone who claims to hate Christmas, you're getting very involved in our preparations."
"I don't hate Christmas."
"You said it was collective hysteria."
"I said it was like collective hysteria. Simile, not equation."
"That's avoidance."
"Of what?"
"Of admitting you might actually be enjoying yourself."
"I'm not enjoying myself."
"You were laughing while making pies."
"I was laughing at the pies."
"You were laughing with me."
"Near you. I was laughing near you."
"That's the same thing."
"It's really not."
Marianne shook her head, but she was smiling. "You're impossible."
"You keep saying that."
"It keeps being true."
"Then at least I'm consistent."
"Consistently impossible isn't necessarily a virtue."
