“Well, sit down” Chutsky said, and he waved at the waiter as Ivan sat. The waiter hurtled over to our table and took Ivan's order for a mojito, and when it arrived Chutsky and Ivan sipped and talked cheerfully in very rapid Cuban Spanish. I could probably have followed along if I had really worked at it, but it seemed like an awful lot of hard labor for what seemed to be a private conversation made up mostly of fond memories —and in truth, even if they had been discussing something far more interesting than What Happened That Time, I would have tuned it out; because it was full night now, and coming up over the rim of the roof was a huge, reddish-yellow moon, a bloated, simpering, blood-thirsty moon, and the first sight of it turned every inch of my skin into a chilled carpet of goose bumps, all the hairs on my back and arms stood up and howled, and running through every corridor of Castle Dexter was a small and dark footman carrying orders to every Knight of the Night to, “Go now and do it.” But of course it was not to be. This was not a Night of Letting Go; it was very unfortunately a Night of Clamping Down. It was a night to sip rapidly warming beer, pretend I could hear and enjoy the trio; a night to smile politely at Ee-bahng and wish it was all over and I could get back to being happy homicidal me in peace and tranquility. It was a night to endure, and hope that some day soon would find me with a knife in one hand and Weiss in the other.

Until then, I could only take a deep breath, a sip of beer, and pretend to enjoy the lovely view. Practice that winning smile, Dexter.

How many teeth can we show? Very good; now without teeth, just the lips. How far up can you make the corners of your mouth go before it looks like you are in very great internal pain?

“Hey, you all right, buddy?” Chutsky called. Apparently I had let my face stretch past Happy Smile and into Rictus.

“I'm fine” I told him. “Just, ah —fine, really”

“Uh-huh” he said, though he didn't look convinced. “Well, maybe we better get you back to the hotel.” He drained his glass and stood up, and so did Ivan. They shook hands, and then Ivan sat back down and Chutsky grabbed his briefcase and we headed for the elevator.

I looked back to see Ivan ordering another drink, and I raised an eyebrow at Chutsky.

“Oh” he said. “We don't want to leave together. You know, at the same time.”