For the record: Ryo's Alcatraz story is borrowed from my own experience.

I'm pretty sure we went there for my sister's birthday one year.

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"San Francisco."

Ryo rubbed his chin. "Cold," he said. "Always colder than you think it will be, no matter what time of year it is. I suppose you might not notice if you're used to regular snowfall, but it's still not a good idea to underestimate the wind. It's right by the ocean, and you know how Poseidon feels about people who don't respect him."

"Mm," said Noa, nodding fervently. "Alcatraz?"

"Deeply, deeply haunted," Ryo said brightly. "When I went, at least, there weren't any tour guides. You were given a little player and some headphones, and you listened to a recording as you went through the place. It was . . . quite possibly the best historical tour I've ever been on. I don't suppose I can be trusted, given my tendency to isolate myself, but for my money it was a wonderful experience."

"I don't suppose I can begrudge you that," Noa said. "I don't know how much I enjoy being alone, but I've certainly become familiar with it. I suppose, after everything, it would be strange if I couldn't handle isolation. But it's not so bad, all told. There's something tangible about solitude in the real world that makes it better than . . . whatever you'd call what I had back then." He sighed wistfully then made random gestures like he was batting something invisible away from his face. "Anyway, anyway. Alcatraz."

"I left blood in the cafeteria."

Noa blinked, then sputtered with sudden laughter. "Okay, you can't just leave that there. What the hell happened?"

Ryo shrugged. "A lot of the place is rundown," he said. "There was a heavy crack through the floor. I tripped. Landed too hard on my left knee." He smiled. "I like to think the ghosts there were able to make good use of the offering."

Noa stared openly at his companion for a moment, then he said: "You are . . . fascinating."

Ryo's smile widened. "Thank you."

"All right. You asked me, so I'll ask you: how's the food?"

"That depends entirely on your relationship with seafood," Ryo said. "Given that I . . . don't really have one, I can't really speak to that." He paused. "Actually, no. The bread from Boudin. Have you ever had good sourdough?"

"I don't think I have," Noa admitted.

"Well, there you have it." Ryo spread out his hands. He let out a little gasp. "Oh! Ghirardelli chocolate."

"Huh." Noa frowned. "You know? You've never struck me as someone into chocolate. Which, I know, that's a very strange thing to say, since I know you drink hot chocolate at night. I suppose I always thought that was a singular exception. You've always seemed like . . . a salted caramel man to me."

Ryo frowned thoughtfully. "I don't dislike that assertion."

"Can you mix caramel into hot chocolate?" Noa asked suddenly. "That sounds like the most delicious thing in the known universe, somehow, and it pains me that I've never tried it before."

Ryo looked scandalized. ". . . Do you want to head out to the store before it closes? I know what we need. I can make you some."

Noa blinked, then grinned from ear to ear.

"Hell yes."