Gold brocade couches, ankle-deep carpet, dark wood everywhere, three phones that she could see, a bar, a plasma screen, four tables and a fireplace… and that was just the sitting room! She could just imagine the master bedroom.

“Little Rika,” Artur called. “Come!”

Thomas sniggered. “You know, I just have to wait him out a day or two and—”

“And what?”

“Never mind.”

With a warning glare over her shoulder, Fred stomped into the back. The only reason I’m going is to show the other one that—what? I better think about this for a minute…

“Do not call me like a dog,” she began, pushing open the bathroom door. “And…” She fell silent. Artur, spectacularly nude (maybe there was something to her mom’s “nudity is natural and beautiful” mantra), was standing, hands on his hips, in front of a double head shower in a bathroom that looked slightly more complicated than the cockpit of Air Force One.

She prayed he knew how the toilet worked.

“I see the problem. Okay, you just turn this one here, and turn this one here…” She leaned in, felt his arms slip around her waist, sighed, adjusted the water level, grabbed the shower head, and squirted it at his head.

“Aaggghhkk! Very well, Little Rika, I will desist.” He groped blindly and she handed him a towel. While he blotted, he added, “For now.”

“Right. Well, you’re all set up for a while. In fact, it was awfully nice of Thomas to let you stay in his suite—”

“I am aware of my responsibility to my host,” he sulked. “I cannot help it if I preferred a different host.”

“Great. Work on helping it. I’m going.”

“Going?” Artur looked (and sounded) alarmed. “But there is sufficient room for you to stay.”

“Yeah, finding a place to sleep isn’t the problem.”

“Then what is?”

She gave him a look.

He smiled. “Ah. That.”

“Yeah. That. And so I bid you fond farewell, sweet prince.”

“The words seem correct,” he said suspiciously, “but the tone—”

“Can’t put one over on you, handsome.”

She turned and walked out, ignoring his hollered, “So you do find me pleasing to the eye?”

Meanwhile, Thomas had emptied his pockets. She suppressed a smile; he carried around more junk than a little kid. Cell phone, spare change (from several countries), money clip, string (string?), earring (?), broken pencil, and T-pass. The debris was scattered all along a table she suspected was brought over on the Niña. He was jabbing at his cell phone but looked up when she walked in.

“Taking off?”

“Yes.”

“Already?”

“Finally.”

“I’ll walk you to the door.”

“The door’s six feet away. I can find it.”

“Now, what kind of a host would I be?” He hurried to her side. “Uh-oh.”

“Name of all the gods, now what?”

“Check it out.” He held something yellow over her head. “Mistletoe!” he said brightly, leaning in for a kiss. He caught her on the bottom of her chin, since she was looking up.