As his head cleared the floor, his stomach rebelled and just barely managing to turn away from the actor, he lost what remained of his breakfast and half a dozen strawberry marshmallows all over the fake hardwood floor. Oh, yeah, this was how he dreamed of waking up with Lee . . .

“Eww. Is that real vomit?”

Tony didn’t recognize the voice, figured it had to be one of the fans, and briefly considered crawling over and puking on her shoes. In comparison to how he now felt, melting eyeballs had been a good feeling. Coughing out what had to be a piece of his spleen, he managed to gasp, “Arra.”

“You want Arra?”

From the sound of it, Lee had moved away, but he was still closer than anyone else in his extended audience. In between heaves that achieved nothing more than a thin stream of greenish-yellow bile, Tony managed a nod.

“He was doing some work for her.”

Peter’s voice. And running footsteps. More than one set.

“Tony!”

“Arra, don’t kneel down there!” Peter’s voice again. “He’s been . . . Never mind. It looks like you missed it.”

He felt a hand on his shoulder and . . . something. It settled his stomach, but more importantly it pushed the darkness back to where he could . . . not ignore it but exist with it. Darker than what he was used to existing with, but he’d manage. Not like he had a choice.

Dropping over onto his back, he looked up into the wizard’s eyes and felt tears rise in his own. So much for what’s left of my macho image.

“It’s all right, Tony . . .”

“It isn’t.” He couldn’t cope with platitudes, not from her. “He knows.”

“I think . . .” CB dropped his voice to a level most of his employees wouldn’t have recognized as his, “it might be best if you speak with Mr. Foster another time.”

Constable Elson snorted. “Trust me, Mr. Bane. I’m not put off by puke. I’ve questioned suspects covered in it.”

“Have you? And Mr. Foster is a suspect in . . . ?”

“He’s not a suspect,” Constable Danvers interjected smoothly before her partner could answer. “We just want to speak to him, which . . .” Her voice sharpened as she directed it at the other officer. “. . . we can do later.”

CB inclined his head toward her. “Thank you, Constable. It seems that Mr. Nicholas was among the first on the scene. Would you care to speak with him?”

“No, thank you,” Elson began. “That’s not . . .”

“Yes.” Danvers flushed slightly as both men turned to stare at her. Given her skin color it was difficult to tell for sure, but he was fairly certain she was blushing. “I mean, we’re here. Let’s get something out of the trip.”

“Like what?”

“Mr. Nicholas was second on the scene.”

“And?”