“Folks generally don’t.”
“Oh for…” I blow out a breath. “Talking to you is like…like…”
“Birdsong in spring?” he suggests.
“Fencing practice,” I say. “Only we’re fencing with feathers.”
“Extraordinary simile,” he offers.
“Look, if you haven’t got anything better to do…”
“I still haven’t,” he agrees.
“Why don’t you go bother someone else for a while, and just come back when Bel shows up.”
“I like it here.”
“Where do you live?”
That takes him by surprise. “Excuse me?”
“Here, in town. You must be living somewhere.”
“Well,” he begins.
“If you’re going to stay here and irritate me, we might as well have a proper conversation.” I fold my arms and glare at him. “You can’t possibly actually live in abarn. Where do you live? The inn? What do you liveon? I suppose you might have buried a treasure chest somewhere about, one which you visit when you need funds; I gather pirates go in for that sort of thing. You didn’t have any money on you besides that one coin that day, and now you’ve left the coin here. I can’t imagine the locals extend that much credit to you.”
“You’re right; they don’t. I do live in a barn.”
“Abarn?” I echo. That does explain the barn-pirate thing, but it’s still hard to imagine. “An actual barn?”
“A nice old lady farmer and I came to an agreement. I muck out her stables and she lets me live in the hayloft.”
I look him over. He hasn’t got so much as the husk of an oat stuck to him anywhere, which you’d reasonably expect from someone living in a hayloft. And it’s hard to imagine him mucking out a stall. Regularly.
“Do you have a friend in town?” I suggest. “Are you renting a room?”
“You don’t have to believe me,” he says, “but I’m telling you the truth.”
“That soundsawful,” I say. “Very drafty. And wet when it rains. And chilly.”
“It’s not bad. I hung a hammock; on rainy days, it’s almost like being back shipboard.”
“What will you do when it gets cold?”
He shrugs. “Worry about that then.”
“How long have you been here?”
“A little longer than you.”
I sigh. Getting him to talk is like drawing teeth from a very good-natured…I rack my brains for the appropriate beast. Something that can retract its teeth, perhaps. Or a shark; no matter how many teeth you extract, more appear.
I look up at him and find that he’s watching me with the most aggravatingly knowing expression, as though he’s completely aware of the mental gymnastics he’s inspired. I raise my nose in what I hope is an expression of proud disinterest.
“And you’re really not just going to go and leave me alone, are you?” It’s not really a question.
“The show hasn’t even started yet. Why not tell me about your glum potential husband?”
