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"Fair enough," Din agreed, taking a sip of his now-cooling cappuccino. "What would you rather talk about?"

"Tell me about Scotland," she said after a moment. "Is it still as dreary and beautiful as I remember?"

"That sums it up perfectly," Din chuckled. "The Highlands are still wild, the cities still full of history and whiskey. Edinburgh's changed, though, and not for the better. But the heart of it is the same."

"I miss the rain sometimes," Fenella admitted. "Everything's so bloody sunny here. Perfect weather, perfect surroundings, perfect people with perfect teeth and perfect lives." She rolled her eyes. "It's kind of boring."

Din laughed. "I keep forgetting that this is all new to you, and that you didn't know immortals existed until a couple of weeks ago. It's always jarring to come home from my flat in the city and see how perfect everyone looks in comparison to the humans."

Fenella leaned forward, her eyes lighting up with the pleasure of being understood. "It's like living in a glossy magazine spread. Even the bloody squirrels look well-groomed."

"At least the coffee's good," Din said, lifting his cup in a small toast.

"The coffee's excellent," Fenella agreed, clinking her cup against his. "And the security's top-notch, I'll give them that."

"Have you thought about what you'll do here?" Din asked. "Any plans, or are you taking it day by day?"

"Jasmine mentioned that the Hobbit Bar is looking for help. The owner only opens it on weekends because he works for Kalugal during the week."

"Ah, Kalugal." Din nodded. "The wayward Doomer prince."

She arched a brow. "Why do you call him a prince?"

"Because he is. He's Navuh's son. Has no one mentioned it to you?"

She shook her head. "Who is Navuh?"

Din snorted. "They didn't tell you much, did they?"

"I guess not. So, who's Navuh?"

"He's the founder and leader of the Doomers. Evil incarnate himself. He's the son of Mortdh, the one who killed all the gods and murdered the Clan Mother's beloved husband."

Her eyes widened. "And yet your people invited his son to live with them in the village?"

Din shrugged. "I have nothing against the bloke. He's not his father, and he managed to escape with a platoon of soldiers who were loyal to him."

"Max said that Kalugal and his men never believed in the Brotherhood's twisted ideology," Fenella said, though she didn't sound entirely convinced herself. "That's why they defected."

"People can change." Din smiled, lifting his cup as if to toast his statement.

"Speaking from experience?" Fenella asked, her head tilting slightly.

He met her gaze steadily. "I'd like to think I've changed for the better over the centuries. Grown wiser, at least. More patient."

She laughed. "I'd say. You were patient enough to wait fifty years for me when you had no reason to believe that I was still around."

Din considered how to answer. "I should have searched for you," he said.

"Yes, you should have."

"I thought that you didn't want to be found."

Her eyes never left his. "That's a convenient way to absolve yourself."

"Convenient, but not entirely untrue," Din countered. "Would you have welcomed me if I had found you in, say, that house on Naxos?"

Fenella considered this, her fingers tracing patterns in the condensation on her water glass. "Probably not at first," she conceded. "But getting an explanation for what happened to me would have been welcome."