I'm out on the street when a small hand pulls my arm back.

"Andrew."

I'd recognise that voice anywhere. I turn on the spot to see Clara Delos looking anxiously up at me. I wait for her to speak. I've made myself vulnerable enough for one night.

"Did you mean what you said?"

"Clara, that's not the sort of thing I joke about." The words come out harsher than I intend.

"Sorry... I didn't know." Her eyes are softer and kind; compassionate.

"No one at ...