“Well, now I have a nice new bracelet, so people won’t think I’m pissed up anymore,” I say lightly. “Anyway, thanks to my swanky new lodgings, I’ve only got to get a bus. It’s cut a huge part of my commute down.”

“Are you sure you shouldn’t make an appointment for a review?” he asks cautiously. “You might need your meds changing?”

“I don’t,” I state. “Seizures happen. A lot of people with epilepsy still have them even once their AEDs are sorted.” I’m relieved that I deliver these facts in my usual optimistic tone. He still looks as if he might argue, so I say, “Drop it,” quietly.

And even though he does it reluctantly, he still does as I ask. I knew he would. I was banking on it.

* * *

It doesn’t seem possible, but my old flat looks even more seedy when there’s nothing in it. I gather my stuff into a pile and we take turns carting it down to the car. Misha attempts to take some of it off me on the stairs but subsides when I shoot him a quelling glance. It takes half an hour, but finally, we’re done, and we stand in the living room.

I sigh. “Jesse, Eli, and I had such good times here.”

He looks around disapprovingly at the peeling paper and stained carpet. “I’m surprised none of them included you getting an emergency tetanus.”

I repress a smile at the sight of him in this scruffy room in his Hugo Boss suit. He looks like a peacock that’s been stuffed in a budgie cage. “Don’t be snobby,” I scold. “We can’t all live in a posh flat by the Thames with wall-to-wall shagpile and twinks.”

“Shagpile? Have I somehow transformed into a gay version of Hugh Hefner?”

“I’m sure you’ve got a velvet smoking jacket hidden somewhere in your flat,” I muse. “I bet you wear it at night and plot world domination while you’re stroking a pussy.”

“I have never stroked a pussy in my life, and I don’t intend to start anytime soon.” I laugh, and he shakes his head. “I could never plan world domination in here anyway. I’d be too afraid of the roof collapsing on me.” He edges closer to one of the walls. “What the hell is that?” he says, pointing at a large, strangely shaped stain.

I sigh happily. “I used to think it looked exactly like Mr Daydream from the Mr Men books.”