"This one has a caramel center made with the milk of the intergalactic bovine creature that on occasion jumps over the Moon."

 For all those worried...I don't typically kill off characters. Thankfully for all of you, I am reader as well as an author, and I know the pain of growing to love a character only to have them die. So you all can put some of your worry to rest. (I say some, because...I've not always been able to keep everyone alive. But I do my best.) That probably did little to comfort all of you concerned over a one handed hermit...
 Because I was lacking in posts, yet again, and didn't wish to do book reviews in a row, I've decided to try a Character Encounter. I don't know who came up with them so I am unable to link to the blog, but lots of authors do them. Someone, somewhere, will tell where the encounter should take place - fast food restaurant, mall...so forth, and we have to tell of a time we met our characters in such places. This month's is a party.)
 So...
 My idea of a good party was always a few friends getting together and playing games in the parlor like in the Little House books. I even always envisioned an awkward Almonzo there, shifting his feet and watching Laura giggle. Sadly though, I've never been to a party like that, and this one proved to be no better.
 All around me young people are talking while I sit awkwardly on the couch, trying to act like I'm listening and not like I know all what their saying. Trying out my Sherlock skills would surely lessen my popularity among them, and that isn't something I need lessened. Therefore, I sit there, my awkwardness having none of the charm that Almonzo's would have.
 Slowly, as girls giggle over school and boys talk about cars, I drift off and space out until someone sits beside me, pulling me from my thoughts. Blinking, I dare to look and see who has sat beside the out of place girl and find myself face to face with a blond haired young man. His hair is close cropped and streaked with odd bits of black, giving him an odd look.
 "I tried some of this frozen...stuff," he says, holding up a bowl I had not noticed before. He stabs a spoon into the ice cream and takes a bite, smiling. "It is good, what do you call it?"
 I look around but no one has noticed him yet, which I find odd as he doesn't fit in with his leather jacket and tall boots.
 "Peter Jones!" I whisper urgently. "What are you doing here?"
 "Eating this," he motions to the bowl, "what are you doing here?"
 I smirk at his earnestness and shrug my shoulders. If anyone sees him what should I care. "Playing Sherlock," I reply, "and that is called ice cream."
 "Ice cream," he takes another bite, "how come we don't have any in Scotland?"
 "Because Tony would get too round eating it all the time."
 He snickers, then settles back. "This might be a more interesting party if he and Darcy where here," he points out.
 Sighing, I lean back as well. "Likely," I say, "but it is less dull now that you are here."
 "Good. I was hoping you'd want me to stay."
 "Why?" I ask.
 "I wanted another bowl of ice cream."*** Quote is from E Aster Bunnymund, the book. He is talking about one of his chocolates, which is rotten. One shouldn't talk about such good chocolates if he cannot share them.
 Allons-y!