081413 #worm #roach Both of them feel a touch arthritic--the stiffness of joints is counterpoint to perfect humour, in a cafe such as Esriel's--when they swivel their necks to see a fire truck blast by outside. Its swirling gouache of sirens washes through the whole cafe, making the neon temporarily dim by comparison. Hanad, rose in hand, ambles over by the glass to watch the truck fishtail out of sight. Sadness comes back into the silence left behind, but it is sadness of a different colour, one that she can stand, one she knows she can unselfconsciously share with the great grey bear on the stool at the counter.