“You can be both.” He sounds genuinely delighted. “You frequently are.”
I turn back to the kettle with great dignity and make my coffee with the focused energy of a man who is absolutely not affected by anything that was just said.
I take my mug to the table. Hex sits opposite me, the same as yesterday, same as the morning after the dinner party. The morning light catches the edges of him, and he looks entirely solid, not flickering at all. I remember the first time he appeared here, how I could see straight through him to the wall behind.
That doesn’t happen anymore.
I look down at my coffee.
“What are your plans today?” Hex asks.
“It’s my day off. I don’t have plans.”
“So we could do something.” He looks perfectly comfortable with this word.We.
“You want to go out there.” I gesture toward the window. “In public. In daylight.”
“Yes,” he says decisively. “I’m strong enough now.”
I sigh heavily. “How exactly are you planning to come with me? You can’t walk down the street. People will see you.”
Hex looks at me with the patient expression of someone explaining something to a small child. “I’ll travel as your shadow. Anyone who looks will only see a shadow, a slightly larger one perhaps, but nothing worth remarking on.”
“A slightly larger one.” I repeat like a parrot. A very dumb, very overwhelmed parrot.
“People don’t look at shadows, Adam.”
It is, irritatingly, a reasonable solution.
I shake my head in defeat. “Where do you want to go?”
“I thought we might go to your coffee shop. Felix will be there.”
“How do you know Felix is working today?”
“I checked his schedule.”
I set down my mug. “You checked his schedule.”
“You have it on the fridge.” He nods at the Welsh dragon magnet holding up the rota. “Monday. Early shift.”
There is something profoundly unsettling about the fact that Hex has studied my rota. There is also something profoundly domestic about it that I am not going to examine right now.
He reaches across the table and picks up the gold ring he gave me, which is now sitting by the sugar bowl where I dumped it. He turns it over in his fingers with idle energy, the metal catching the light. Then he sets it back down. “The blue jumper is nicer than whatever you’re planning to wear, by the way.”
I look down at my pyjamas. The ancient grey ones with the bleach stain I have been meaning to throw away for two years. I’d like to say they aren’t an indictment of my general dress sense, but I’d be lying.
“I’ll wear whatever I want,” I say, attempting and failing to do that haughty thing Hex sometimes does.
“Of course you will.” He agrees affably.
I huff out a breath. “Why do you want to see Felix?”
“I have no wish to see the little witch. I wish to take you out for coffee, and you’ll be more comfortable if your friend is there.”
I stare at Hex. I concentrate on not letting my jaw drop.
“You want to take me for coffee?” I somehow manage to squeak.
