-This story is from Garry's POV, because Garry's boss. Mary is completely disapproving of this whole 'friendship' between Ib and Garry. Ib is Mary's age, so she should be Mary's friend, right?!-

It's been nine years since the whole art gallery incident, and I'm not quite sure how this happened, but Mary made it out of the fabricated world alive. Me and Ib, well, we were just beyond terrified. I had to step up to the plate and be the man in this situation, because, you know, I AM the man here. Unless there's something going on with Ib that I don't know about. If Ib IS a man, then, I feel all weird for liking her. A lot.

Well, Mary had gone right out and suggested that we go out to eat somewhere, her, Ib, and I. Yes, of course MARY Had to set this up. So, here we all are, walking to some café by the art gallery. Just the place we wanted to be. But Mary insisted. "So, ah, Mary, how's life been since the gallery?" I ask. Both girls were 18 (And of marrying age!), and I was interested to see what their lives were like. "Oh ,Garry, it's been fabulous. I've gotten a job as the receptionist for the art gallery! So, when the gallery is closed, since I've got another set of keys for the main doors, I can go see everyone!" She answers. When Mary had said 'gallery', I saw Ib tense up a little bit. How I wish I could rub her shoulders to make all of her pain go away, tell her that everything would be alright. "Oh, look! we're here!" I hear Ib exclaim, and point to the small café in front of us. Me, again, being the gentleman, held the door for the ladies. Well, lady and painting.

A few minutes later, we are all munching on some overly- priced, small snacks. "So, Ib, how have things been?" I ask, actually caring. "Well, I'm living off of a small amount of money that my parents gave me when I moved out." She says. "So, a small apartment, I assume?" I inquire. "Yeah." She says, swirling her finger in the remains of frosting left on a napkin from a cinnamon roll. I put my arm around her shoulder. "Well, at least you've a place to stay, and some money to live on." I say, feeling her head against my shoulder. "Ahem!" Mary says, getting our attention. Dammit. "Well, I'd say we're ready to leave, are we not?" She asks curtly, with force. I get my arm off of Ib's shoulder, and stretch my arms. "Yeah, I guess we are." I say, yawning. "Yeah, I guess." Ib says, getting out of her seat. Damn Mary.