Dietrich remained in a place where he could easily get to a hiding spot in case Silas showed up. A dull ache had spread through his chest as his mind kept turning to what had happened in North Africa, though he knew if he found out about this years ago, his response would be far worse. I have come quite far, Dietrich thought. Things could be different, but we cannot change that. There is no sense dwelling on it now, but that does not mean I am willing to discuss it at the moment. He froze when he heard the door open, but relaxed when he heard Zeph's voice.

"It's just me. You don't have to hide, wherever you are," Zeph said. He smelled strongly of hay and all manner of things related to horses, and his clothing was dusty and dirty.

Dietrich stood, closing the book in his hands. "I made coffee, but I have no idea what you want for breakfast."

"Nothing. That's what I want," Zeph muttered.

"You should not have nothing."

"Yeah, well, I want nothing."

Dietrich sighed. "To be fair, I should have reminded you to set an alarm as well—"

"Don't. Just… don't." Zeph stared at an empty mug for a second before putting it back in the cabinet. He went into Lysander's bedroom, grabbing a pair of swim trunks from a laundry basket next to the stack of boxes. He slammed shut the bathroom door, then emerged a minute later. "I'm going to Sunset. You coming or not?"

"Your apparent grumpiness is telling me you are letting a lack of coffee and an empty stomach rule over your head."

"Oi, I asked a yes or no question! You coming with me or not?"

This is going to be like dealing with Troy when I took him on that road trip twelve years ago. Dietrich folded his arms over his chest. "Zeph, this sort of behavior is unhealthy."

"I'll talk to you later. Answer the bloody question."

"I may as well go with you to make sure you are not hurting yourself."

"You're really not good with one-word responses, are you?"

"No." Dietrich paused for emphasis. "That was a one-word response, just so you know."

"Wise-ass," Zeph grumbled. He was still very much in a huff as he put his surfboard and broom together, then went back inside to get Dietrich. Like the day before, Zeph's takeoff was a bit too quick for Dietrich's liking, though he understood the point.

When they arrived at the beach, Zeph paid no attention to Dietrich while untying his surfboard from his broom and storming off toward the water. They weren't alone that day, as a group of young men around Zeph's age were trying to catch waves a good distance away. Zeph was paying attention to them, though they didn't seem to be paying attention to him. Dietrich sat cross-legged next to Zeph's belongings, figuring it was best to let Zeph go for now. Patience, Dietrich thought. Pushing too hard will make him push back. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and enjoying the steady sound of the waves washing up on shore. Dietrich's tranquility didn't last long, though, and he opened his eyes when he heard someone calling out to Zeph.

"Hey! You training for the event in Piha?" a young man with buzzcut blond hair asked.

Zeph didn't look like he wanted to answer, but he eventually said, "Yeah. Why?"

Another member of the group, with darker hair, gave his blond friend a playful nudge. "Are you not paying attention or something? That's Zeph Ainsley. I saw him at the last tournament in Piha." The dark-haired man called out to Zeph. "Did you already sign up, Ainsley?"

"No, not yet," Zeph said.

"Well, don't bother. Leave the surfing to those of us who actually can. No one likes a showoff."

"Oi, do you seriously think I'm a showoff, Dryden? What are you, five?"

"No, but you are if you still think you're going to go pro at the rate you're going. You had your chance at Gold Coast to surf with the big boys, and you failed massively. Go get a job at a dairy and come back when you're serious."

"You can go suck eggs. I'll wipe the beach with you at Piha."

"Oh, really? I'm shaking in my boots, Ainsley. What are you going to do? Pray your surfboard hits me when you wipeout? Wave your magic wand and turn me into a toad?"

Dietrich stood, calmly walking over to where the boys were arguing. He stopped behind Zeph, and cleared his throat. "I suggest you all part ways before this gets out of hand."

"This doesn't concern you," Dryden said. "Get out of here."

"I can handle this, Dietrich," Zeph hissed through grit teeth.

"What is he? Your coach?" Dryden asked.

"Kind of? Yeah? We'll go with that."

"You finally admitted you're pathetic and hired a coach."

"You know what—" Zeph swung his fist, catching Dryden in his right cheek.

Dietrich grabbed Zeph and held him back. "That was unnecessary." He pushed Zeph out of the way when Dryden tried to continue the fight despite his bruised and slightly swollen cheek. Dietrich swiftly deflected Dryden's punch and swept the younger man's legs out from under him. Dryden hardly had time to brace himself, and his breath rushed from his lungs when he struck the sand. His buzzcut friend nervously tried to help him up.

"There is plenty more where that came from," Dietrich said. He really didn't want this becoming a true fight. "If you cannot be civil with each other, then stay out of each other's way, and you—" he gestured to Dryden, "Grow up." When he was satisfied the younger men weren't going to continue their altercation, Dietrich turned and nudged Zeph back over to where his broom, wand, and shirt lay.

Zeph dropped his surfboard next to his things, and sat down in the sand, auburn hair plastered to his head. "Well, now I can't lose at Piha."

"Care to explain your history with this person?" Dietrich asked.

"Some jackass I went to school with."

"Frequent rival, I take it?"

"Sometimes. He usually practices down in Raglan." Zeph looked out at the water. "Our last encounter was pretty bad, all because he was going on about how I dropped out of school, that I was a sore loser after Gold Coast, and with every contest I enter in, all I'm doing is taking up space that a better surfer could be filling."

"None of us is a waste of space."

Zeph shrugged. "Tell me, Dietrich, how am I supposed to win now? Or do anything?"

"Not let the words of a more miserable person get to you, for one."

"That's easier said than done."

"To start, go get something to eat, and get a coffee. Depriving yourself of the things you need will not do any favors for you or anyone else."

Zeph sighed heavily before getting up. He dried himself off as best he could, then put his shirt back on. The two then walked from the beach and into the small and quiet Port Waikato. As tempting as it was to walk around and see all there was to see, Dietrich stuck by Zeph. He hadn't had much of a breakfast himself, as he spent much of the morning thinking about the memories that resurfaced from North Africa. Naturally, he wanted something sweet and preferably covered in chocolate, vanilla, or honey. A second cup of coffee wouldn't be a bad idea, either.

There was also no going wrong with cinnamon rolls, which the tiny shop they stopped in had. Dietrich left with two, along with that second coffee, while Zeph went with a more savory meat pie. They found a secluded place to sit that hugged the banks of the Waikato River. Zeph propped his broom and surfboard against a tree before sitting next to Dietrich, unwrapping his food and taking small bites while Dietrich was more content with taking a much bigger bite from his first cinnamon roll. There was nothing quite like a homemade cinnamon roll, but it was as close to a taste of home as Dietrich was getting, so he allowed himself to moan with contentment.

"I don't think I've ever seen anyone so happy with a cinnamon roll of all things," Zeph muttered. "Well, Jules's dad with his tea came close."

"Having known Moffitt for two decades, I can say that his love—well, obsession with tea surpasses anything I have with a good sweet treat," Dietrich said.

"I don't know. Legend has it you once had nine cinnamon rolls in a day and a half."

"Oh, 'legend' has it?" Dietrich smirked. "Fine, I will not deny that one. That was from my first visit to Troy's ranch, back in 1949. Shauna, his girlfriend, later wife, made cinnamon rolls, and they were the best damn cinnamon rolls you have ever tasted. I was not really paying attention to how many I had." He became lost in thought for a moment, thinking about how much had changed since then. "That was only one small part of a trip that meant something a whole lot more. That was… almost approximately one year after I attempted to commit suicide. Troy had told me, when I started recovering, that I could visit whenever I wanted. It took a year for me to work up the courage to do so. Back then, I had no idea what to expect. We both wanted to put the past behind us and become friends. It just took a little while for us to truly see that. Plus, Troy went through a period where he was anxious leaving me alone, because he was worried I would try and hurt myself again. That made it difficult to trust each other for a little while."

"I can't say I'd blame him after that," Zeph said. His expression became sullen, and he wrapped his food before setting it on the paper bag from the shop. "What stopped you from trying again?"

"It was not any one thing. There were several things. It started with something deep inside saying that I wanted to live, and I admitted to needing help—to Troy of all people. Yes, despite all of my teasing, I do owe him quite a bit. He does know how to stop and be serious when a situation calls for it. We stayed up late the night that I admitted I needed help, just talking, not only about what happened to me, but other things as well. It helped. He really was listening to me. Granted, I was still… very, very tired. That is the best way I can describe it. Tired. I had no interest or energy to do anything, even take care of myself. For three years, I was starving myself as a punishment for my perceived failures during the war, and even after things began to change, it was difficult to get back into a routine where I gave a damn about what I needed. Hitch and Tully visited me to help me get into better habits, and they showed me how to enjoy the little things in life. I have kept that up for the last twenty years, and I have been a lot less stressed because of it."

"I should do that more often."

Dietrich nodded. "Just sitting here, by this lovely river, is a little thing worth enjoying. Even simply being here, in a different country, is worth enjoying. I feel very much alive. That is also the main reason I meditate. It is a chance to stop thinking, and feel. Feel the air, the wind. Smell the flowers, the sea, freshly cut grass. Everything that can be felt in one way or another. Everything that can be appreciated. I felt pain, sadness, and exhaustion for such a long time, that it is nice to simply feel tranquility. I will never claim that I am entirely free from my depression, though. It does still reappear from time to time, but it is not nearly as controlling as it once was."

"How did you know when it wasn't controlling you anymore?"

"That is difficult to explain in words alone. When it happened, I just… knew. I suppose the best way I can describe it is that I was able to recognize when I was drowning, I had people around to throw a lifesaver to me, and I was willing to accept it. I understand that sometimes it feels like you must cross great bodies of water on your own in life, and you either keep swimming, or you drown. No one else can accomplish that swim for you, but it does have to have people with you."

Zeph was quiet again. "I know when I started surfing, I was told not to go out alone, especially at Sunset Beach, because the rip currents can be pretty bad sometimes. I like to have Lysander with me, but most of the time, he's out at uni, so it's just me. I get exactly what you're saying. It'd be better to have someone there, but I've pulled myself out of a lotta rips. I do worry there's going to be a day when… I can't. Your whole connection to life thing… that… almost happened." Zeph looked down at his lap. "The night after I got kicked out of my parents' house, I was really upset. Lysander let me stay, and told me to stay as long as I needed. His parents were okay with me staying as long as I didn't trash the house and helped out around the property. I should've been… okay. I should've been grateful that I wasn't homeless. Instead, I just… spent that whole night wondering what I was good for." Tears were welling up in his eyes. "I really did think about… you know, death. I considered it. I really did think it was all I was good for." The tears began rolling down his face, and he sighed before continuing. "I'm not thinking about that anymore. That was two years ago, and I stopped myself by going out to Sunset and surfing nonstop, for about the entire day. Lysander didn't know about what was going through my head, and I didn't tell him, even after he came out to the beach to see what I was doing."

"If he is your best friend, why did you not tell him?"

"I didn't want him getting worried, especially since he was preparing to go to the University of Auckland then. He didn't need more on his plate."

Dietrich took a moment to think, as he was tempted to chastise Zeph for his actions in not telling Lysander. He drew in a breath, instead saying, "Well, we cannot change what you did then."

"I told Jules, and his dad. I should tell Lysander at some point. He's continuing his degree at Massey in a few months, for the next five years. He's going to be a fully licensed horse vet in five years. Where am I going to be in five bloody years?"

"I am going to hazard a guess at saying you feel as though your friend abandoned you."

"A little, but I know he didn't. Still… what's going to happen when he graduates and has a real job and he's busy all the time?" Zeph grabbed his head, letting out a growl of frustration before raising his voice. "It's so bloody selfish for me to be thinking like this! Why should I even care?! He's successful and I'm not! Why should—"

"Zeph!" Dietrich barked. "Stop. Calm down."

Zeph looked like he wanted to strike something. Instead, he picked up a rock, and angrily whipped it into the river.

"Jules and his father spoke very highly about both of you, and they talked to you both individually on several occasions. Did you even know how concerned Lysander already is about you and your future?"

"I had a rough idea."

"Yes. He trusted them to help find a solution for you."

Zeph looked as though all his energy abruptly vanished from him. "So, I'm letting him down by not feeling like I can run a surf camp."

"No. You are not letting anyone down. That is the whole reason I am here. I think. I am beginning to suspect there is another reason now, but I will go into that later."

"I mean, all of this is just proving I don't have the patience to teach people. I told you yesterday, how can I help others when I can't even help myself? I've just told you everything wrong with me—"

Dietrich put his finger to his lips, telling Zeph to shush. "Listen," he said in a low voice.

Zeph's face reddened. "Listen to what?" he hissed.

"Just listen. Listen to everything around you, and just… stop."

There were birds chirping and a gentle wind was rustling the leaves in each tree and bush that lined the river. Zeph still looked like he wanted to explode. "How is this supposed to help?"

"Stop thinking about it. Everything you just told me. Stop thinking about it." Dietrich turned to face Zeph, watching him try to relax and stop thinking so hard. Eventually, Zeph drew his legs up and rested his head on his knees. Dietrich remained quiet for a few more moments, waiting for Zeph to look up again. "You remind me a great deal of Troy, in that after many years of hurt, you have your defenses, and it is difficult to take them down. Like Troy, you have a lot in your mind that needs to be sorted and organized, and you have reached a point where it is difficult to do so on your own. It has eroded your confidence, your sense of worth, and, in time, it will erode your sense of hope. When that happens, you will be sent back to the dark place you had to pull yourself out of two years ago."

It wasn't even noon yet, and Zeph looked exhausted. Dietrich would have been content with sitting there for the rest of the day, but now that Zeph's difficulties had been put into words, he needed some time to think. He also felt it would be best if they didn't focus on Zeph's problems for a little while. Dietrich picked up his second cinnamon roll, and gestured to the paper bag containing Zeph's food. "I suggest you finish eating, and then we head home."

"You're not going to find a solution?" Zeph asked.

"Not right now. I think it will be better that we take a break."

Zeph shrugged, and picked up the paper bag containing the remainder of his meat pie. He finished it, despite it likely being cold by that point, then stood to get his broom and surfboard. At least this time, his takeoff was a bit gentler. They returned without being seen, and just in time for rain to start coming down.

"Well, this stinks," Zeph muttered.

"On the contrary," Dietrich said. "It is the perfect weather to brew a cup of tea and read a book, or perhaps play a round or two of chess."

"Mate, I'm too stupid for chess."

"Nonsense. You are not stupid. Nor can you possibly be worse than Troy."

"What does he do? Eat the pieces?"

"Fortunately, no. He just… has no feel for strategy, and does not have the patience to learn such a game properly. I gave up on trying to teach him a long time ago, and my sanity is probably better for it."

"To be fair, I have no concept of strategy, nor do I have patience. At all."

"Alright. There are other things we can do." Dietrich felt something nudge his leg, and looked down to see Soot sitting by him. The cattle dog was covered, head to paw, in dirt. "Giving you a bath would be a start."

Zeph gave a heavy sigh. "You ever bathed a dog before?"

"No."

"I can show you." Zeph jerked his thumb toward the bathroom. "Soot. Bathtub. Go on, mate. You're filthy."

Soot obeyed, trotting into the bathroom and hopping into the tub. Zeph took Soot's collar off and set it on the sink, while Dietrich leaned against the sink to watch the process. He didn't say anything until after Zeph was done running the water. "I am sure Jules mentioned that his father used to strongly dislike dogs, right?"

"Yep," Zeph said, not looking up from lathering soap into Soot's coat. "They both mentioned that there was this red mutt that they left with you after they stole a tank. I'm just trying to piece together how they managed to do that."

"What, steal a tank? Well, it was both simple and insane at the same time. Naturally, the whole thing was Troy's idea. They took a Panzer III, merged it with the column I was escorting, and destroyed it. What made that sting quite viciously was the fact that a mere few hours before, I had managed to drive them off from that column when they were using only their jeeps." Dietrich shook his head, though he was grinning a little. "Of course, good things never last, do they?"

"Hey, you got a dog out of it. I guess that's something."

"My men became fond of that dog, so I let them take care of it. I do not have the energy for a dog. A cat would be a better fit for me. Gunther is at the age when he can be respectful of an animal. Perhaps I will get a cat. Or one will find its way to me."

Zeph kept scrubbing Soot, remaining focused on that for a minute or two before speaking. "Gabriel told me that he and his unit took in a fox. It wasn't one of the little ones, the fennec foxes. It was bigger. Not a red one, though."

"Did he say where in North Africa this was?"

"Western Libya, I think."

"Then it was most definitely a Rüppell's fox. My men were friendly with quite a few of those. Did Moffitt tell you he once had to retrieve an enchanted paw that came from a Rüppell's fox when he was serving in the Scots Greys?"

"He didn't tell us the full story, but he did wake us up one morning when he was having a nightmare regarding that incident. Some SS officer sealed him in an ancient chamber full of sand."

Dietrich nodded. "That did happen, though Moffitt did manage to dig his way out. It is a long story. He actually read his account of it to me, Troy, and Anah while I was staying at his home after…" He lifted his wrists. "After I got out of the hospital. It was an interesting story, and I appreciated the chance to think about something other than what had just happened to me."

Zeph glanced over his shoulder at Dietrich. "I can't imagine it was easy looking at the scars for a while."

"It was not. I had to get used to it, though, because I was told in the hospital that they would most likely be permanent." Dietrich looked over his left arm. "The black mamba bite I gave myself three years ago did not scar. Moffitt told me if I had used any other snake, it probably would have scarred, or worse, resulted in amputation."

"I'm still trying to understand what possessed you to do that."

"Troy would not have been able to return to the living world if I had not done something. It is as simple as that."

Zeph turned on the water to rinse the soap from Soot's coat. After turning the water off, he said, "So… the river that you and Jules and his dad were talking about… that's real?"

"As real as anything in front of you."

Zeph turned the water again, double-checking to ensure all the soap was out of Soot's fur. "It kinda reminds me of what I've read about Spirits Bay, up north. I don't remember everything, just that there's a spot up there where the ghosts of Māori who've passed depart this world into the water. I once went up there to check out the surfing condition, and… something didn't feel quite right. Something told me not to surf there. That's not the only time that's happened—there was another place, somewhere along the east coast, that was known for shipwrecks. The wrecks created some pretty decent surfing conditions. I went with Lysander a few years ago, and we both stopped as soon as we touched the sand. He looked at me and said, 'Something's not right.' I just nodded and said, 'Yep. Let's go somewhere else.' Turns out, there were at least three wrecks there with bodies still in them."

"When Troy and I took a road trip together back in 1957, we came across a ghost town in Montana. We stopped, looked around, and even went inside an inn. One of the rooms was odd, to say the least. There was a very strong presence inside. It was so strong that I began feeling sick, so we left rather quickly. I have no desire to mess around with ghosts that I know nothing about."

"Same here. I know my dad's ancestors came to New Zealand because they were witches and warlocks that practiced certain types of dark magic in Britain. They came to escape arrest for some of the things they did. Trying to communicate with demonic and mischievous spirits was one of them."

"That is one step below practicing necromancy, if my knowledge of the laws pertaining to magic are correct."

"Yeah, and both are punishable by death. Silver bullet through the heart to prevent other necromancers from utilizing the body."

"Your parents do not practice dark magic, do they?"

"No. My grandparents were the generation that broke away from dark magic. My grandfather specifically. He convinced his siblings to turn against it. There was quite a bit of conflict, and it forced them to hide for a while. They scattered through the North Island. Some hid with Magicless Pākehā relatives, others with Māori, and some went to live in the wilderness on their own. When their parents passed away, they went about establishing connections with each other again."

"That is a lot like what happened with my brother a few years ago. Our own parents treated us pretty poorly. My mother was cold and occasionally violent. My father suffered in silence from his experiences in World War I and was extremely distant from us. I had no contact with anyone from my blood family for almost twenty years, and my brother, Markus, only felt comfortable talking to me because Mother passed away and therefore was no longer around to berate him for it. There are a lot of unpleasant details, but I will end it by just saying that I am glad things have changed for the better with me, and I will not repeat what I went through with my own son."

Zeph nodded. He stood to get a towel to begin drying Soot, but froze when the sound of keys being turned in the front door broke through the silence of the house.

Dietrich frantically glanced around. "What do you suggest, Zeph?"

"Hide in the tub."

Without a second thought, Dietrich got into the bathtub, and shifted the curtains. Soot was still sitting inside, patiently waiting to be dried. He looked up at Dietrich as the skinny German moved past him.

"I would greatly appreciate your cooperation, Soot," Dietrich whispered. "No barking. Just pretend I am not here."

Soot's only response was to yawn and rest his head on the side of the tub.

The feeling of being in an extremely humid space was uncomfortable, but Dietrich didn't dare move. Being in a shower fully clothed was an odd and even more uncomfortable feeling. He leaned against the wall, watching Soot and listening to the conversation outside the room.

"You need something, Mr. Wilkins?" Zeph asked. "I'm just finishing up bathing Soot."

"This won't take long. I just wanted to apologize for yelling at you this morning," Silas replied. "You did good with the horses. High praise from the customer on how well they looked."

"Thanks. What happened this morning was… that was justified. I should've set an alarm or something."

"No, no. It wasn't right, so I'm still apologizing."

"Well, if you insist, then apology accepted. Oh, one thing… Lysander called yesterday and said there's a tournament in Piha this weekend. I have to register by Friday."

"I suggest you go up Thursday if you want to beat the crowd. I'll give you Thursday and Friday off."

"Thank you, sir."

Dietrich noticed Soot standing and preparing himself to shake. He resisted the urge to tell the dog not to, and was promptly given a shower. He glared down at Soot, thinking, Thank you very much for that.

"I wish you the best of luck at Piha," Silas said.

"Thanks," Zeph replied. "Anything else?"

"No…" Silas paused, trailing off. "Zeph, have you seen anyone hanging around the property lately?"

"No. Why?"

"It really does feel like there's someone else here."

"I haven't seen anyone. I'd tell you if I did."

Silas sighed. "Alright. All I ask is that you at least do some work Thursday morning, and then you're off for the weekend."

"I will. Thanks."

"The missus is going to start cooking dinner in a couple of hours. Like I said, you're welcome to come down to the main house."

"Okay. I'll stop by, if I remember."

Dietrich didn't release his breath until he heard the door open and close. Zeph pulled the shower curtain back. "What happened to you?" the younger man asked.

Dietrich grunted before pointing at Soot, who was smiling and trying to look as innocent as possible.

"Oh." Zeph grabbed some towels from the linen closet, throwing one on Dietrich before placing another on Soot. "Sorry, mate."

"It is fine," Dietrich muttered, getting out of the bathtub. "Are you actually going over to have dinner with the Wilkins?"

"I should, just so this doesn't seem suspicious," Zeph replied.

"I was going to suggest that. I can make my own dinner."

"Well, Mrs. Wilkins does make really good cherry pie. I'll try and bring you a slice. That won't be for another few hours, though."

Dietrich nodded, then heaved a sigh. "This is getting a bit ridiculous."

"What, you hiding?"

"Yes."

"I was going to say it if you weren't."

"Well, it has been made slightly more complicated with the fact that I finally got a look at Silas this morning, and… I do recognize him. I think it is safe to assume it was his unit that attacked a convoy I had been escorting in North Africa several miles east of Tobruk. The attack was devastating for both sides. When I finally had a chance to get away after picking up the wounded, I was certain I had picked up everyone, but as I was leaving the scene, one of the New Zealander soldiers that my lieutenant assumed was dead began moving. The burns on his body resembled Silas's scars exactly."

"Are you worried Mr. Wilkins is going to recognize you?"

"Honestly? Yes."

"It's been a long time. He might not recognize you at all."

"I was not exactly an unknown figure in North Africa. Allied commanders considered me to be a thorn in their sides until Troy's unit came along. My picture was probably circulated quite a bit."

"Still. The odds of him remembering are low. It might be better we say something."

"No." Dietrich shook his head. "No. We have no way of knowing how he will react. I do not want to run the risk of Silas taking his anger at me out on you or Lysander."

"I'm sure if we explain—"

"My answer is no. Not yet.

Zeph continued drying Soot. He put the towel in the laundry hamper before getting a brush and returning to the bathroom. He glanced up at Dietrich while brushing the dog. "Do you feel guilty about what happened?"

"A little bit. Not nearly as strongly as I would have felt many years ago," Dietrich said.

"It sounds like it was a very easy mistake to make."

"That was what I told myself when it happened. I wish I had gone back and retrieved him."

"I'm not going to pretend I know what it's like to be in your position, but I do know stress and adrenaline don't make it easy to make decisions."

"No. I made a decision, though, and that was to continue with my assignment before we were attacked again. I had wounded soldiers, along with prisoners, most of whom were also wounded. I was not going to risk all of them for one man, no matter how much I wanted to go back."

Zeph didn't look sure of what to say, and Soot was resting his head against Dietrich's right leg. "Tell you what," Zeph said. "I'll try to ask some questions tonight, see where Mr. Wilkins's head is. Maybe he'll be more accepting of you than we're both afraid of."

"Personally, I am not holding out much hope for that, but I will not stop you from trying," Dietrich said. "Perhaps, I will be proven wrong."