In Tony’s admittedly limited experience, the noise cats made thudding through apartments was completely disproportionate to their size but Mason clearly liked the line so he nodded a vague agreement.

“It’s fucking freezing in here . . .”

Maybe not freezing but damned cold.

“Is that jam for me?”

Jam? He followed Mason’s line of sight to his hand. “Oh, yeah.”

“Put it by the basket. And then I’m sure you have things to do.” The actor’s lip curled. Both fangs were still in place. “Important production assistant things.”

As it happened, in spite of sarcasm, he did.

There were no bagels in the basket but there was a scattering of poppy seeds on the tray next to a dirty knife. Setting down the jam, Tony turned and spotted a plate half hidden behind the plant that dominated the small table next to the big armchair by the window. Bagel at twelve o’clock.

Mason had made himself a snack, set it down then gone to the bathroom and . . .

One thing at a time. Bagel now. Bathroom later.

He reached inside himself for calm, muttered the seven words under his breath, and the first half of the bagel hit his hand with a greasy-slash-sticky impact that suggested Mason had been generous with both the butter and the honey.

“Foster?”

“Just leaving.”

All things considered, the sudden sound of someone crying in the bathroom was not entirely unexpected.

As Mason turned to glare at the sound, Tony snagged the other half of the bagel. “Air in the pipes,” he said, heading for the door. “Old plumbing.”

The actor shot a scathing expression across the room at him. “I knew that.”

“Right.” Except old plumbing seldom sounded either that unhappy or that articulate. The new noises were almost words. Tony found a lot of comfort in that almost.

Safely outside the door, he restacked the bagel butter/honey sides together and headed toward the garbage can at the other end of the hall, rehearsing what he’d say when Mason discovered the bagel was gone. “I wasn’t anywhere near it!”

No nearer than about six feet and Mason knew it.

Although near had become relative. These days he could manage to move unbreakable objects almost ten feet. Breakables still had a tendency to explode. Arra’s notes hadn’t mentioned explosions but then, until the shadows, she’d handled F/X for CB Productions, so maybe she considered bits of beer bottle flying around the room a minor effect. Fortunately Zev had shown up early for their date and had been more than willing to drive him to the hospital to get the largest piece of bottle removed from his arm. His opinion of juggling beer bottles had been scathing. Tony hadn’t had the guts to find out what his opinion of wizardry would have been.