Leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, the empty mug still between his hands, he gave Quincy a long look. “Come to my house Saturday for tea.” “Can’t,” responded Quincy. “I’m busy avoiding human connection.” “Come,” Arch insisted, dropping off the ancient and resting his hand on it, while staring at Quincy. “Mary has been wanting to see you, by any way, and I can make you a promise.” Quincy cocked her head. “What?” “I, as a flawed human, am promising to give you just the outcome you expect, that I will be there and that it will be nice.” “I might be in a horrible mood, which wouldn’t be
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