My main feeling was that I was fucked. These four had harmonies close as the most polished a cappella group on the planet, and I had to pick up my line and join in the jam session without missing a single beat. I had a little leeway for weakness and medication and general trauma--right now they were just happy I was home and talking, what I actually said was beside the point--but that would only carry me so far, and nobody had told me anything about a Head. No matter how upbeat Frank had been, I was pretty positive that the incident room had a sweepstakes going--behind Sam's back; not necessarily behind Frank's--on how long it would be before I went down in a spectacular fireball, and that most of the spread was clustered under three days. I didn't blame them. I should have got in on the action: a tenner on twenty-four hours.

"I want to hear the news," I said. "What's been happening? Was anyone asking after me? Do I have get-well cards?"

"You got hideous flowers," Rafe said, "from the English department. Those huge mutant daisy things, dyed lurid colors. They wilted, thank God."

"Four-Boobs Brenda tried to comfort Rafe," Abby said, with a one-sided grin. "In his time of need."

"Oh God," Rafe said in horror, dropping his knife and fork and putting his hands over his face. Justin started to snicker. "She did. She and her bosom-age cornered me in the photocopy room and asked me how I was feeling."

That had to be Brenda Grealey. I couldn't see her being Rafe's type. I laughed too--they were working hard to keep the mood up, and Brenda was starting to sound like a geebag anyway. "I think he quite enjoyed it, deep down," Justin said demurely. "He came out reeking of cheap perfume."

"I almost asphyxiated. She pinned me up against the photocopier--"

"Was there wucka-wucka music playing in the background?" I asked. It was feeble but I was doing my best, and I caught Abby's quick sideways smile, the flick of relief across Justin's face. "What on earth have you been watching in that hospital?" Daniel wanted to know.

"--and she breathed all over me," Rafe said. "Moistly. It was like being molested by a walrus soaked in air freshener."

"The inside of your head is a horrible place," Justin told him.

"She wanted to buy me a drink so we could talk. She said I needed to open up. What does that even mean?"

"Sounds like she's the one who wanted to open up," Abby said. "So to speak." Rafe made a fake gagging noise.

"You're disgusting too," Justin said.

"Thank God for me," I said. Talking still felt like poking black ice with a stick. "I'm the civilized one."

"Well," Justin said, giving me a small, tucked-in smile. "Hardly. But we love you anyway. Have more steak; you're eating like a wee bird. Don't you like it?"