I should maybe not have offered to do something for him, because he picks that idea up and runs with it, enjoying himself way too much. I just look at him. “I’d like to keep working in this town, Iago, and not be mocked any more than I already am while I’m doing it.” No information is juicy enough that I’d risk my living over it. “Also, I did promise someone I wouldn’t sleep—or almost sleep—with anyone unless I asked her first. Anyone who isn’t Verdi, that is.” And what he’ll do with that information, I don’t know, but it seemed important to say.

“I’ll give you something about myself, if you like. If there’s something you want to know.” Stupid of me to offer that, but it’s really a small enough thing, and he does know Verdi better than I do. Well, he’s known her longer, anyway. He goes on, asking me if I think he’s human, and I shrug. “I meant I’m human as far as you know. And I think you are, yes.” Stands to reason there’d be a lot more regular people around than gods, and he hasn’t done anything to make me think he’s an exception to that rule.