Susan, as she called herself, had kept quiet all evening, drawing so little attention to herself that she doubted anyone had even noticed her in hours. But she had noticed some of them, and the exchange between Pio and the fair-haired stranger had been particularly interesting with the way he was hiding. If he'd really wanted to avoid people, he'd have rented a room and gone there, but he hadn't. He must want to talk to someone. Someone who had enough problems so as to make his look trifling. Noting that his tankard was empty, she stopped by the bar and got a another full for him. Pio gave her a knowing smile as she handed it over and softly said, "Good luck,"
Susan just shrugged and said, "Luck is what we make of it, my dear, nothing more or less." Taking the ale and her own tankard of mead, she made her way toward the table. He looked up warily as she approached but after deposting his ale and sitting at the bench, she asked nothing more pressing than what he should be called.
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"Man as a whole, Man pitted against the universe, have we seen him at all 'til we see that he is like a hero in a fairy tale?"
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