Sophie couldn’t believe she was noticing her companion’s physical attributes when her life was in danger and stopping Novalight from taking over the world was apparently at stake, but it was too hard not to. Her rescuer was glaringly handsome, even all scratched and bruised, with a somewhat freshly broken nose, and in his bizarre Caesar outfit. All that was missing was the laurel wreath crown.

Her brows flew up. She stopped and pulled him to a halt. “Do you not remember? Do you have amnesia or something?” Judging by the state of him, she was pretty sure he’d been knocked in the head a few times.

He tugged, moving them along. “Or something.”

Sophie took a quick step to keep up with his long-legged stride. “I’ll give you a name, then. A temporary one—just till you remember your own.”

“Why?” he asked.

Why? “So I can stop calling you The Man in my head. Or Caesar.”

“Caesar’s not bad.” He’d never heard it before, but he liked it.

She grimaced. “Please, no. Even dressed like that.”

He glanced down at himself. “The people of Apple don’t like strong names?”

Sophie did her best fish-out-of-water impression. When her throat stung from the cold, dry air, she snapped her mouth shut. This was getting weirder by the second, and her current life was already weird enough. “Okay. I’ll call you Bob.”

“Bob?” He couldn’t have looked more incredulous if she’d suggested Yoda or Spock.

“Bob’s a good name,” she defended. She had an uncle on her mom’s side who’d escaped the Greekness and ended up with Robert for a first name. Bob for short. Half her family couldn’t pronounce it and called him Boob instead.

“Bob sounds like something you’d name a goat.”

“Okaaaay. How ’bout Bill?” she suggested.

“Now I’m to be called the mouth of a duck?” His jaw visibly tightened. “Fine. I have a name. You might’ve heard of me, in which case, maybe you can point me in the direction of home.” He took a deep breath. “Piers. Piers of Sinta. Gamma of the realm and third in line for the throne.”

Sophie mashed her lips together, quelling a chuckle. Was he a performer? She appreciated a person so devoted to their craft that they stayed in character despite near-freezing weather and a very-real fight with a power-drunk megalomaniac’s henchmen, but it was time to drop the act. “Yeah, I don’t think I can point you in the direction of The Realm. Sorry. Got any other information, Piers of Sinta?”

His eyes narrowed. “Are you mocking me?” It didn’t look like anyone mocked him often, or easily.

“Maybe.” She squeezed his arm to ease the sting. “Sorry. I come from a big family. Teasing is second nature.”