It was easier to talk to her through letters, Kieran thought; with her in front of him he was much more aware of the gaps between them. Miss Binns was M, was his weird letter friend, and she was also — a middle class woman who had articles written about her in Witch Weekly and whose brother owned Whizzhard Books. Kieran had a sister he fought with, scars down his body, and a history of selling his own blood. They were very different, was the thing — and while he had not been struck by this when they were just talking about Marlowe Forfang, this felt very much more real to him when he was talking to Marlowe Forfang.

Fuck, was M Marlowe Forfang? Kieran hadn't not considered it, but — there was so much to think about, here, and they were too in public to really talk about it, and one of the things he wanted to ask her was how did you know? He took a sip of his beer to bolster his nerves and shifted in his seat, as if by shifting he could settle into the new facts of this conversation.

He wished, again, that Jude was here; they would have liked each other, he thought, in that they were both incurable optimists.

"Right," Kieran agreed, "And I hope that I haven't disappointed you with my lack of —" good upbringing, sobriety, the look of a person who knew what they were talking about "— well thought-out theories on Forfang."

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