Air lied still, floating without flowing in the musty old apartment. There were no dust motes flying around in the Rays of green light shining out from beneath the covers; musty didn't necessitate unclean. There was no garbage on the floor, no uneaten food on the counter, no waste items strewn about. In a technical sense, the place was neat and tidy.

Newspapers were stacked no more than a foot high on the low coffee table near the front door, bearing dates not older than a few weeks. Behind the counter, all food was properly stored for sanitary reasons and there were no dishes piled in the wash basin - which actually featured running water, much like the toilet and shower in the bathroom. The bookshelf was orderly, the stack of boxes in the corner was near and even and all clothing had been folded and stored in the closet. Although the apartment was small and a bit cramped, it was so orderly and organized that it could have passed any inspection by a military drill officer or upper class etiquette trainer.

And yet it was musty. Stale. Dark. Lifeless.

There were no pictures hanging on the walls, nor was there a radio, the communication device which had become almost a necessary basic right for most of the world's population by that time. There were no mirrors since the inhabitant could perfectly adjust her hair and clothes from experience without looking, and there were no light sources since she could see in the dark. For any other person, a cramped apartment with no windows would have felt like a prison; for Sharimara, it felt like the home she truly wanted: remote, isolated and away from people.

Situated in an unlabeled building owned by her employer, her apartment was one of the few inhabited units in her hallway. Most of the other rooms had been used as dry storage or transshipment points, though thankfully since her room was toward the end of the hallway the workers rarely ever passed by her door. Even from her bedroom, her sensitive ears could hear when other people were in the building with her, and she didn't like it. Having fled from the world and resurfaced in Chi-Jin Island, Sharimara wanted nothing more than to simply be left alone by the living. At the end of a hallway, in a forgotten building, up the metal steps of a fire escape, down an unlit alley, right off of a lonely side street, she'd carved out her place in the world down where one could live no further south, no further away from it all.

And yet, on so many occasions, the hole she'd dug for herself had been discovered; her queendom invaded.

Ten years ago, she'd felt comfortable enough in her new life to write a letter to the family she'd left behind in her home town hundreds of years prior. Upon receiving news that she was indeed alive and hadn't forsaken them, a flurry of letters began to arrive at Yao Guai's office, pledging love and acceptance for the long lost sister, sister in law, aunt, great aunt and now great great aunt and begging her to come home at least for a visit. Every single week, the children of her nieces and nephews wrote to her, detailing the stories of their lives and wishing they could finally meet the runaway woman they'd heard so much about.

But she never replied. She couldn't. The day her father died, two years after her mother, she ran away, unable to cope. So many disappointments followed, and the lure of adventure helped her to bury the pain. A chain of failed relationships, hard missions and feuds with other bounty huntresses had left her isolated and constantly on the move, never settling down for more than a few years at a time across a life that had almost reached the three hundred mark. So much had transpired, so much had occurred...so isolated had she become. She couldn't answer her family's letters; she didn't have the right. For as much as they had prospered and progressed emotionally into a loving, right knit family, she'd walled herself in and become a brooding, misanthropic villain who broke kneecaps and smashed up shops for a living. No letter she'd ever attempted to write back to them had made it beyond 'hello.'

Six years prior, she'd stopped reading the letters her family sent her. Of course, she couldn't throw them away; every single one had been sorted by date and stored in the boxes in the corner that were stacked all the way to the ceiling. Eventually they began to arrive less frequently, ostensibly because she never even read them or wrote back. The barrage became a trickle, and on average she received three letters a year.

Lo and behold, it had been a letter that wasn't even from her family members which had put her in such a blue mood. For two and a half days she'd lied in bed, emerging only to either go to the bathroom or prepare food in her tiny kitchen (which she then ate in bed). When she remained standing for too long, she would feel dizzy and need to lay down again; on and on went the cycle until the patter of familiar little feet reached her ears, approaching her door rapidly.

In typical fashion, Dilly began to talk before she'd even finished knocking on the door. "Hey Shari, it's me! I need you to sign off on your bonus for this year before I can dispense it!" the tiny woman squeaked from outside in the hallway.

Groaning and sliding from her bed to the floor like a stray sea slug, Sharimara crawled out of her bedroom before standing up straight, popping her stiff back before opening the door. Dressed in robes like a miniature pandaren, the small goblin woman held a document in a manilla folder and stared upward cheerily like a sharp toothed child.

"Can I come in and sit down at least?" Dilly asked in good humor, never the least bit out off by the warden's standoffish demeanor.

Sighing and reminding herself that the goblin hadn't done anything wrong to incur her wrath, Sharimara stepped aside and forced herself to act polite. "Please, come on in," she said while pointing toward her couch.

Dilly readily accepted the coerced offer, and Sharimara closed the door and began looking for food to share. Crispy, crunchy noodles that she assumed were made from egg drops were more plentiful than she'd remembered, and she quickly poured some of the snacks into a wooden bowl. Chunks of gingerbread and and a bunch of bananas were also sitting in the cupboard where she kept the bowls for no readily available reason, and thus were also offered as a sacrifice of hospitality for her impromptu guest.

Sitting with her hands folded, Dilly gazed around the dark apartment until Sharimara finally lit a candle for her. After setting down the food, she sat on the floor on the other side of the coffee table and looked over the brief, straightforward document regarding her bonus. The text was far too short to warrant a house visit on the weekend; the goblin obviously had ulterior motives.

"This place is certainly...cozy," Dilly remarked euphemistically.

"Small apartments are easier to clean," Sharimara replied, her expression controlled as she tried to figure out what exactly her coworker wanted.

The sympathetic smile of an armchair psychologist confirmed Sharimara's suspicions. Drawing out the silence like a warden stalking her target, Dilly peered into the giantess as if she was going to stage some sort of an intervention.

"So, Shari...how are things?"

Breathing deeply, Sharimara worked to control the volume of her voice even as she felt like her inner fortress was under seige. "Fine," she replied dryly.

Though the cheer didn't melt away, a much less naïve and more serious air worked its way into Dilly's attitude. A firm but friendly side of the woman that Sharimara hadn't ever expected to exist showed itself as the goblin leaned forward and spoke maturely for the first time. "Shari...I'll be polite. If there's someone you don't need to worry about exploiting your private troubles, it's the three foot tall secretary at a backstreet bail bonds office whom everybody views as an airhead...you won't find a safer person to talk to, realistically speaking."

"I said I'm fine."

"I'm sorry, but I don't believe you," Dilly replied, not an ounce of fear after she so openly contradicted one of the most feared people in the city other than Yao Guai himself. The warden's hard stare didn't faze the goblin one bit, confounding Sharimara beyond belief. "You're the moneymaker of this operation, whether Mao Mao likes to admit it out loud or not. And if you're distracted, then we're all in trouble."

"I'm not..." Sharimara stopped herself when Dilly pointed a finger at her in warning not to lie. The goblin secretary's brave audacity was as shocking as it was endearing, and despite a measure of irritation, the warden did feel her respect for the tiny woman increase.

"You really are closed off, aren't you?"

"Very."

There was a firmness to Dilly's stare that totally lacked any judgmentalism or pomp, as if she just might have real, actual experience working at a counselor's office. Most other people would have fled at the first green glare; Dilly, however, appeared determined to spread her roots on the couch until she received the answer she was looking for. The logic in her words - that of all the people on Azeroth, she was the person that Sharimara least needed to worry about - lightly knocked on the gate of the warden's emotional walls, rather than trying to knock them down. Even when allowed inside, the chances that the three foot tall secretary could cause any damage were minimal.

For reasons that Sharimara didn't even fully understand herself, she acquiesced.

"I'm going to talk; you're going to listen. When you walk out of that door, nothing from this...er...from what I say, was said."

"Deal, girlfriend," Dilly replied, relaxing against the arm of the couch and loosening up into a more casual posture. "So who is he?"

"First of all, please don't ever call me that again. Second of all, you don't speak enough Darnassian to know whether Centrius is a feminine or masculine name."

"Call it a lucky guess. Now...who is he?" Dilly asked with a wide grin.

Sharimara had never been well spoken; finding the correct words was always a chore. Fortunately, Dilly waited patiently as she thought about it, and never repeated her questions while waiting. The notion that her life and past were simply too complicated to explain to other people adequately was a constant fear that Sharimara experienced, and part of why she hadn't made any true friends during her eighteen years on the island. Resigned to merely speaking her mind and leaving the onus on Dilly to decipher the meaning, the warden tried to explain.

"Centrius was...very special to me at one time. A hundred and fifty someodd years ago, I went on a date with him after...well...stalking him for a while through night elf genealogies."

"Your mom was a night elf, right?"

"Correct...and my mom and his mom were neighbors for a very long time. I mean, a long time even by the standards of beings who live as long as their race once did."

"So he was a family friend?"

"No...not at all. He was the only member of my generation who wasn't included in the genealogy of my mom's village. I had already run away from home at that time, and lived like I do now, so I tracked him down. I still don't know why...I guess I thought I'd find a kindred spirit in the other black sheep of our generation."

"And I bet he was hot, right?"

Sharimara's blood flowed quickly, a mixture of anger, panic and another sensation she hadn't felt in many decades coursing through her veins. "Wha...what! How is that relevant!" the stuttered.

"You know how. So you stalked this guy because you share the same biracial background...um, his dad was also a jungle troll, I'm guessing?"

"Yes," the warden replied tersely.

"So you were lonely and wanted to find a person who was new yet close to you in some way, and you stalked this guy who turned out to be hot-"

"Irrelevant!"

"-and you two dated each other. Thanks for the indirect admission of his hotness, by the way. And now, years later, he's found you when you've obviously tried so hard not to be found by anybody."

Shaking her head, Sharimara felt the expected disappointment sting her as her coworker misunderstood what she felt was the complexity of the situation. "It's more than that...so much more. When I was with him, I found out how much more we had in common...both of us were separated from our families, since I'd been gone from Ratchet so long that I didn't know if my siblings still lived there and he'd lost touch with his daughter. Both of us were alone, both of us were living out of motels as we engaged in contract work, both of us...had lost children..."

"I'm awfully sorry, Shari."

"Yeah," the warden replied, looking down at the coffee table for a few moments to collect herself.

Dilly pulled a tissue out of her robe pocket, saving Sharimara a trip to the bathroom. "Here."

"Thanks...right. We just...everything seemed perfect. He was a widower, I was twice divorced, we were both alone and living from job to job...I just felt like if I would have a chance with anybody, it would have been someone like him. And now, well...after that, my love life pretty much dried up. I was right. After him, there really was nobody else I could make things work with. It felt so unfair when we were pulled apart."

"I'm guessing it was the nature of your jobs and the fact that you were both technically homeless?"

"Yes...I was sent to Northrend when the mogu invaded, and put under radio silence. He was sent to Outland just before the Dark Portal imploded on itself."

Dilly's eyes grew wide almost immediately. "Shari...that was...a century and a half...ago?" the goblin asked in confused bursts.

"Yes," she replied wearily.

Rather than a show of sympathy, Dilly's brow knit into an angry arch. "What the...you're telling me that after you were torn apart from each other a freaking century and a half ago, after you were sent to one of history's bloodiest wars and he was sent to another planet where everyone got stranded, he found you in the most remote place on the planet..."

Reaching for the pile of unsorted letters next to the newspapers on the coffee table, she picked up the one from Centrius. "...you didn't even read it yet? This guy...damn, Shari, this is the most romantic thing I've ever heard, what on Azeroth is wrong with you?"

A pulse of offended anger shot through Sharimara's veins. "You promised that you would be polite!" she huffed.

"Trust me, I am being polite. Because if I wanted to be rude in reaction to how crazy you are, you would know. Now," Dilly said while waving the letter around, "I'm dying to know: why are you trying to ignore the letter of a man who not only remembered you a hundred and fifty someodd years after the two of you were torn apart by cruel, cruel fate, but also went to obvious great lengths to find you considering the fact that it's a big, wide world and you're not exactly an easy person to find for a guy in...shit, Shari, he lives in freaking Feralas. He must have searched for years to find you."

The word 'years' echoed in Sharimara's mind. For a good few moments she didn't answer, finding herself almost mentally shutting down as she temporarily forgot how to can. As high as her emotional walls towered up toward the sky, the provided no protection when she'd already invited her colleague inside. Trapped and cornered, she almost began to shiver as she found herself faced with a question she was afraid to answer.

"I...I..." Gulping and folding her arms in front of her, Sharimara retracted in on herself, staring into her lap and denying the existence of a very faint pain in her chest. "...am afraid."

Dilly set the envelope down on the table and hopped off the couch. Her little legs didn't carry her too quicky, and it took her a moment to walk over toward the crestfallen warden. "Afraid of what, Shari?" the goblin asked while reaching literally upward to lay a comforting hand on the seated warden's shoulder.

Normally Sharimara could have used Dilly's physical closeness as an excuse to close herself off again and end the conversation. She could shout or become rude, claiming that the woman was smothering her or prying too much. Given the sudden firmness of her armchair psychologist, however, she had a feeling that such a reaction would either ruin their cordial relations at work or simply result in the little green woman becoming even more insistent.

"I'm...afraid...of him moving on," she sighed, hugging herself even tighter.

Dilly considered the words for a few seconds before responding. "You're afraid that since the two of you were split apart, he's settled down and found somebody else?"

Sharimara shut her eyes, wishing her heart would just freeze again as it had been for so long. "Yes...I'm afraid that he's started a new life while I'm just...I'm sorry Dilly, I don't mean to disrespect the boss or the island-"

"No, it's okay, I get what you're saying," Dilly reassured her. The casual demeanor of the small woman was relaxing, and helped Sharimara to loosen up a bit. "None of us want to be in this business forever. Well, except the brother and sister duo. But if this is so important to you, why didn't you try to find him before?"

Laughing at her miserable self, Sharimara found solace in her own cynicism. "I did...I'm such a loser, but I did."

"You're not a loser!"

"Outland was on lockdown for so many decades, but once it opened again, I went there...it was a long time after, but I did. I asked around the main night elven consulates, checked the big settlements in the Hellfire Peninsula. I found a few people at those taverns and dens where adventurers congregate who recognized his description, but nobody even knew if he was still alive. And so...I came back. I assumed he'd either died, or simply returned to Azeroth and moved on. He knows that my siblings might live in Ratchet, but the last time I read one of my brother's letters, he didn't mention anything about any guys asking about me. And so...like so many other things in my personal life...even like my brother...I forced myself to forget. Sealing one's heart away protects it from ever being hurt."

Although Sharimara would have liked to just shut her eyes again and take a moment to collect herself, Dilly thought otherwise and gave the giantess a giant hug. It was awkward both due to the size difference as well as the fact that she revealed a secret she hadn't even admitted to herself after just a few minutes of discussion with the office secretary.

Releasing her quickly enough, the green woman looked Sharimara in her green eyes. "Shari...if you avoid all of life's risks, then you aren't actually living. And judging by the state of your apartment, I'm guessing that's the loop you've fallen into during your past twelve-"

"Eighteen."

"-eighteen years here." Lifting up the letter, Dilly held it in the air between them. "Either you can do this or I can."

Sharimara regarded the envelope as if it was a ticking time bomb, or some sort of a deadly weapon. The suspense, however, had been crushing her for days; the thought of having to drag herself to work after the weekend with that suspense still lingering over her was far more terrifying than the possibility of temporarily painful closure if she read the letter only to find out, for sure, that he'd moved on.

"I...I can. I'm ready."

Dilly smiled warmly. "You can do it!" the goblin cheered while opening the envelope and handing the letter to her.

Every single blood vessel in Sharimara's body pounded as she held the paper between her fingers. Those fingers trembled visibly, earning her an unwanted pat in the back from Dilly. Taking a deep breath, Sharimara reminded herself that she'd been through a lot in her long life. She'd been stomped on by a magnataur, squeezed by a kraken and technically was once hit head-on by the now collapsed Deeprun Tram (not at full speed, but still). If she could absorb those blows, she could read a letter and risk discovering that an old flame just wanted to brag about the new children he'd sired with another woman.

"Goddess light my path..."

Sharimara Hearthglen,

For so, so long, I've hesitated in writing this letter. I can't count how many times I've picked up the pen only to crumple up the paper and toss it away, my own self consciousness shaming me from engaging in what my fear tells me is an indulgent fool's game. But there are some risks in life worth taking, even in the face of possible heartache.

I don't know if you remember who I am...I won't fault you if you've forgotten me. But I can assure you that not for one moment did I forget you. My name is Centrius Nightshade, son of Tirith Nightshade, shield sister of your mother - goddess light both of their paths. We met one hundred and sixty years ago (not an approximation) in Dustwallow Marsh, when you were caught in a trap I'd set. After getting to know each other, we agreed to meet at Booty Bay three months later. I felt so silly inviting you; as enamored as I was, I didn't know if my sentiment was reciprocated. Thus when you did show up, I was overjoyed beyond words.

I won't smother you with my own reminiscing over the past, but suffice to say that the weekend we spent together was the best of my life. It's difficult for me to describe without gushing, and our inevitable parting was as painful as it was necessary...we were both adventurers on the move and to drop our entire lives and professions just to have a second date felt too crazy even for me.

Long story short, I was stranded on Outland with all other people on that planet when the Dark Portal imploded. Only when it reopened so much later did I manage to locate my daughter and her husband again. Our reunion was emotional, to say the least, and they've become a bit protective of me ever since. I did try to find you...I had promised to when we parted ways. But wherever I asked, nobody knew about you, not even the other descendants of the Serenity originals at the village reunions I began attending. For a long while, I gave up and resigned myself to my new life.

I can't complain, I suppose. My daughter refuses to let me live outside of the communal apartment my son in law owns, and they see to it that all of my material needs are taken care of. I'm as healthy as I ever was and even work as a monster hunter when duty calls on the mainland. I've even worked my way back into Kaldorei society after having lived among the orcs for so long on Outland. But no matter how settled I become, you're on my mind. I hope that doesn't come off as strange or invasive, but there's nothing ignoble about it; on those nights when I see the stars, the memories of that time we spent together replay in my mind again and I smile. Perhaps that sounds sappy after so much time spent apart, but I've never made a policy of bottling my feelings up inside.

So...here we are. I've rambled entirely too much. If this letter finds itself unwelcome, then you're under no obligation to reply; just know that somewhere out there, a sentimental son of Serenity smiles and prays for you on those clear, starry nights like that one in Stranglethorn Vale. And if you do ever find the time to write me back and let me know that you're okay, and that my daughter's snooping did reveal the correct address, then it would truly warm this old fool's heart.

I wish you all the best,

Centrius Nightshade

Feathermoon Stronghold, December 15, year 326

The letter tumbled from Sharimara's hand, dropped by shaky fingers as she facepalmed. Her eyes shut so tightly that she almost pulled a muscle in her face; her palm squeezed to harshly that she had to breathe through her mouth. Her exhalation shuddered, sounding as if a cold, buried heart had felt just the slightest spark of warmth after centuries spent hidden and forgotten. It hurt...like an atrophied muscle used after a long period of disuse, it hurt. Blood vessels all the way up in her ears pumped, drowning out the sound of her friend's question as she found herself going cross eyed even with her lids shut. A hand on the back of her neck brought back memories of her first time dancing, sensations of a powerful grip kneading the muscles in the back of her neck and pulling her close...

...but it was just Dilly trying to comfort her. "Shari, can you hear me? Come on, don't go all catatonic now."

Forcing all those feelings back down into the deep, dark pit of her stomach caused Sharimara to feel nauseous. Emotions long since buried tore at her, reminding her that she still had a heart even if she'd neglected mending it for so long, tormenting her with the fact that allowing herself to feel anything at all would only lead to her ruin. For all her power and the armor she donned, she was weak to those words written on the paper. Weak and unable to bear the pain of feeling.

So dizzy had she become that she didn't even notice when Dilly draped a blanket over her shoulders. One second she was without a blanket; the next second she was with a blanket, sitting in the same spot on the floor. Her goblin friend had disappeared from the spot on the floor next to her.

"This is the cutest thing I've ever read!"

Just like that, the emotional floodgates were slammed shut. Mild panic caused Sharimara to jump when she realized that Dilly was back on the couch, her feet propped up on the coffee table, the letter in one clawed little hand and one of Sharimara's cups filled with cooled off herbal tea in the other.

"What! What! Dilly how did you take my letter!"

Undaunted by the shouting, sharp featured half troll on the floor, Dilly just raised a curious eyebrow. "That was like ten minutes ago, miss emo," the goblin quipped jovially while sipping from the cup. "Seriously, you just started hugging yourself and shut down so I put a blanket on you and read the letter myself...like, four times now. Your tea is getting cold by the way."

Hugging the blanket around her head, Sharimara's embarrassment overpowered her anger. "I'm a loser," she whined while covering her entire face with the checkered fabric.

Rather than inspiration, the goblin offered unabashed realism. "Kind of. Though now I know why I've never seen you in a date or even a one night stand in twelve years. You and this Cent fellow have been pining for each other for like a bajillion years."

"Dilly!"

"Seriously, he mentions working his way back into the society like some shell shocked war veteran with no friends. I have a feeling he's a shut in like you are." Dilly glanced over to receive the glare Sharimara was sending her way, but rolled her eyes fearlessly. "You can get mad at me, or you can rejoice in the fact that this guy literally didn't even let interplanetary travel get between him and tracking you down again."

Her heart mostly sealed away again and her senses beginning to return, Sharimara tried to rationalize the whole ordeal away. "So...I'll write him back. I'll write him back, and...tell him that I'm okay and...I...l-liked receiving a letter from him-"

"Aaaand that you also went to Outland looking for him too, and you were so touched when he wrote to you that you were moved beyond words and hid under a blanket for ten minutes."

"What? No, I am most certainly not going to tell him - Dilly, you put down that pen!"

"I'm not putting down the pen."

"Stop writing on that paper!"

"I'm not stopping writing on this paper."

"What are you - let me see that! No, don't tell him that his letter truly moved my heart...Dilly!"

Torn inside, Sharimara only made a halfhearted attempt to steal the pen and blank sheet of paper away. Dilly slapped the larger woman's hands away furiously, appearing extremely serious as she wrote an altogether appropriate response letter that left Sharimara feeling exposed regardless.

"You're obviously not in the right state of mind for this, so I'm going to write the response and you're going to sign it," Dilly explained while leaning over the arm of the couch and dangling over the floor in order to avoid interference from the warden. "It's going to be wonderful and cute but not smothering or gushing, just like his, and you're going to thank me for it."

Retracting in defeat, Sharimara slumped on the couch behind the secretary and shrank beneath her blanket, holding it around herself like a vagrant at a homeless shelter. "I'm so going to regret this," she whined, trying her best to peek over the little green person's shoulder.

"Oh stop," Dilly said before flipping the letter over to Sharimara to sign.

She stared at the letter for a few moments, wondering if the secretary was also some sort of conjurer. "How the fel did you write all that-"

"I'm a secretary, honey; I write fast. Now come on, read and sign. He apparently wrote this six weeks ago, and I'm guessing that from all the way down here, it will take as long to get back to him. Don't leave him waiting."

Centrius,

Words can't describe how touched I felt to receive both your letter and word that you're alright. Though I must say, I'm a bit offended that you'd think I wouldn't remember you: the memory of that that weekend we spent together is as fond to me as it is to you. Even had you not written, I would still never forget you.

I tried to find you, after the New Dark Portal was opened. I scoured the peninsulas and the hills, asking around about you and finding a few leads that led nowhere before returning to Azeroth disappointed. For a very long time, I felt sad when thinking of where in the universe you might be, but eventually I settled for cherishing the time we shared. In a world as dangerous as ours, I find that focusing on the beauty in life is far more productive.

My life is not so different from yours, I suppose. You found my correct address: I currently work as a debt collector and gypsy remover for an office full of consummate professionals; it's stable work and I have the support of a fabulous group of people, including the most kickass secretary one could ask for. It isn't the most exciting life, but it's better than fighting mogu in Northrend. I'm more stable now, in possession of a permanent address, and keep myself busy reading novels and tidying up my little apartment.

It seems that both of our hearts are warmed by the reconnection. I would love to hear from you again; that you succeeded in finding me once more is the most pleasant surprise I've had in a long time.

Sharimara Hearthglen

Balrissa City, Chi-Ji Island, January 29, year 327

Even as Sharimara signed the letter, she frowned. "You make me sound so lonely and desperate," she grumbled.

The moment she finished signing, Dilly whipped the letter away and stuffed it into a spare envelope she just so happened to have conveniently brought with her. "Because you are, no offense. Plus, look! I mention that you read books in your little apartment and love hearing from him. He's sure to understand that as confirmation that you're also single." The small green woman promptly leapt off the couch, hurrying over to her sandals near the door and even forgetting the work documents she'd asked Sharimara to sign.

Last minute regret pricked at the warden's sense of privacy. "Single? He lives in Feralas, what could even happen between us now anyway?"

Not taking the bait, Dilly opened up the door before the melancholy giantess could protest. "Stranger things have happened..." Dilly said with a wink, and then promptly shut the door behind her and scurried away.