Fearing his body would actually fall apart from intense laziness, Henry took up the habit of walking to the city and doing some reading/research outside, among people. After all, that was where his muse would ordinarily strike. Plus, he was getting tired of living at sea. Sailing was far less exciting than Killian would describe.

Henry found that Roni's was a surprisingly bright and cheerful place during daytime. Quickly, the place by the window overlooking the farmer's market became his. He was flipping through Andersen's collected works when someone knocked on the glass. His head shot up. It was Ivy Belfrey, pointing that she would join him. No! Why? He was shaking his head, but it was futile. Henry couldn't help but wonder how she was still in his life.

"Hey, Roni. Can you get me some black tea, please?" she spoke as she was approaching Henry, "Hello."

"Hello. Why are you here?"

"Oh, I come here sometimes after work. Roni's a great drinking buddy." she cocked her head, looking at the illustration in the book. It was 'The little mermaid'.

Henry closed the book and pushed it away, "Research. I'm thinking of picking up writing again."

"You're a writer? What made you give it another shot?"

"I guess it was my..." his what? He couldn't think of the a fitting tittle.

"Your Internet girl?"

"Mhm." he smiled, somewhat proud. He supposed she was his Internet girl.

She smiled back, "Good for you. And her, I suppose. Maybe not meeting her is for the best."

"Actually, I wrote saying we should meet."

"Really? Did you do it because I said not to?"

Partly, "Of course not."

She sat back, "So, when's the big day?"

"Still unspecified. She's busy at the moment. With a project."

"A project?" Ivy asked as if it was dubious. He didn't like the tone.

"Yes." he defended, "It's a project that needs tweaking, she said."

"Tweaking?"

"Are you going to repeat everything I say?"

She lifted her hands in surrender, "It just seems like she's married."

His coffee mug stopped mid it's intended path, "She's not- that's terrible of you to say. She's not married. She's a busy woman."

"Well, as one of those soccer moms of course she's busy. She has to take her three kids to practice. I bet at least one has piano lessons or something."

"You're the worst." he replied but hid his bemused smirk behind the rim of the mug.

Ridiculously as it sounded, Ivy managed to get into his head and he actually asked SeattleGirl67 the question.

From: SeattleGirl67
To: TruestBeliever
Subject: Re: An answer

'Am I married? What kind of a question is that? How can you ask me that? Don't you know me at all? Oh wait, I get it. Your friends are telling you the reason we haven't met is that I'm married. Am I right?'

"I felt like a complete ass. It's all because of you." he accused Ivy couple of days later when he yet again bumped into her. That kept happening more and more.

She chuckled, "Hey, it's not my fault you find me persuasive. And she didn't answer the question, by the way."

"What are you talking about? Of course, she did."

"Nope."

"She did."

"She did not."

"She did, she figured me out. She knew exactly what the deal was, which is so like her."

Ivy shrugged and snatched a fry from his plate, "She didn't answer the question, did she?"

"Technically, no." he admitted defeat.

She laughed, "What's her nick?"

"I..."

"I'm not gonna write to her. Relax."

He hesitated for a moment, "It's SeattleGirl67."

"SeattleGirl67. Why 67? She's 67 years old? Wait, maybe she did come that night at Roni's. Remember when those two old ladies walked in? She probably brought a friend, if you turned out to be a creep."

"Nice theory but how about, 67 people that think she looks like Robin Wright from 'The Princess Bride'?"

"Pft, so predictable. Of course you'd like that movie."

"It's classic!"

"Fine. Maybe she looks like Vizzini from The Princess Bride."

He shook his head and picked up the tab, "Why did I even tell you?"

"67 OCD disorders. 67 selfies per day." she kept going relentlessly as they were browsing through the market, "67 moles removed. 67 stitches from her nose job. 67 felony indictments-"

"The number... her address." well that was original, "No, she would never do anything that prosaic."

"Mhm."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"The only thing I care about is..." he paid for the bunch of apples and handed the bag to Ivy. She gave him a look of confusion, "For you. It's healthy."

"Oh, thanks."

"So, the only thing I care about apart from the married thing and the jail thing is the Christmas thing."

"The Christmas thing?"

"I could never be with someone who doesn't like Christmas. The snow, the decorations, the joy-"

"I don't like Christmas."

"You don't?"

Ivy pulled a tight lipped smile. "That settles it then, we will never be together."

They stopped at the crossroad, where they were to go in opposite directions.

Ivy swayed on her feet for a couple of seconds, silently debating something. Then she propped herself u on tiptoes and kissed his cheek, "See you around."

"Ivy?"

She turned.

"How about we see each other around noon-ish?" What was he doing?! "Tomorrow?"

"Um, I have a... a major business thing tomorrow. Saturday?"

"Yeah."

"Great." what the hell was he doing?