"Ha! I told you. He's there again. I totally knew it."

Feliks peered through the window, being careful to allow the curtain to obscure his face, then glanced triumphantly over his shoulder at his friend.

Erzsébet crawled over the bed to the window and shouldered him out of the way good naturedly so she could see.

"Ah," she paused. "So you were telling the truth."

Feliks huffed indignantly and rolled his eyes. "Of course I was. Why would I lie?"

She nudged him, half playful, half apologetic. "Well, it just seemed a little unlikely. It's a bit… strange."

Feliks snorted. "It's weirdest-ass thing I've seen since that time Feliciano and Gilbert got wasted together, remember? Not that I mind. I mean, that guy out there is fine. But still, this is like, the eighth time, or whatever."

Erzsébet raised a sceptical eye brow and he shrugged. "All right, more like fourth or fifth. But I swear. It happens every month, like clockwork. I look out the window and this guy's butt-naked on my lawn."

Erzsébet turned to look again. It was not a hardship. Whoever it was must have been tall, though he was currently prostrate. She couldn't see his face, since he was lying face down, but his hair was light brown and shoulder length, brushing a well-muscled back that sloped down to a firm bottom and long, muscled legs. The guy was clearly in shape, probably sporty. Unless he suffered some horrible facial disfigurement, he was presumably a very good looking man.

"And you don't know him?"

"Please, Erzi. I would remember that ass."

Acknowledging the truth of this, she frowned when a thought struck her.

"Why didn't you say anything before now? I mean, there is a strange, naked man appearing on your lawn regularly for months. He could be stalking you. He could be crazy. Why haven't you called the police? You could probably get a restraining order, if you wanted to."

Feliks shifted uncomfortably.

"I don't know. I didn't want to get the police involved. I mean, he's probably a good guy. He doesn't, you know, do anything. Just wakes up, looks embarrassed and leaves. It's actually kind of cute."

Erzsébet scrutinised him suspiciously, making him flush. "Feliks," she said quietly. "Don't tell me you have a crush on some random nudist."

"What? No! I just… I guess I feel bad for him. He's probably been on a bender, or sleeping walking or whatever. He always looks super confused, you know."

She sniffed. "I can't believe no one else has reported it."

"Well, he usually wakes up pretty early and goes off before anyone else on the street sees him, I guess."

Wait.

"Early? What are you doing getting up early? You never get up early."

He wouldn't meet her eye and Erzsébet sighed wearily. "Forget what I said before. If anyone's a stalker, it's you. Setting your alarm to spy on some poor man! I never would have believed it!"

"Hey, what happened to 'crazy, stalker nudist'? Geez! You're my best friend,Erzi. I asked you over for, like, advice." He fidgeted, then finally met her eye. "What do you think I should do?"

Well. Rare was the occasion Feliks spoke so quietly, or so uncertainly. Clearly, he was genuinely concerned.

Erzsébet relented, tapping her chin thoughtfully as she continued to stare at the naked man. It struck her that the dew on the grass looked slightly frosty.

"To be honest, I'm surprised he hasn't died of hypothermia. He is alive, isn't he? It looks freezing out there."

"Well, that's what I thought the first time I saw him," Feliks agreed. "I swear, the guy's like a polar bear. He just sleeps, then gets up and goes."

"If he is asleep," Erzsébet commented shrewdly. "He could be in a coma. Or dead."

Feliks stood up hastily, almost overbalancing as he did so. He righted himself, then grinned at her a little sheepishly.

"I guess I should go check on him then."

This, Erzsébet realised abruptly, was the real reason Feliks had invited her over to stay the night. She knew one of his little schemes when she saw one. He had clearly been nerving himself to approach his lawn visitor for weeks, and wanted her moral support before he took the plunge. Plus, probably, a witness to call the police in case the guy actually was dangerous or violent.

With this is mind, she followed him as he traipsed down the stairs and pulled on a coat and outdoor shoes, taking the time to arm herself with the heaviest iron saucepan she could find in the kitchen, while readying her mobile in her other hand. She was nothing if not prepared.

Leaning against the front door, she watched events unfold.