He sipped at his drink -- a more grown-up highball, with a lone ice-cube in it, maybe a Scotch and soda. "OK, right. Well, then, on the record, but candorously. I loved your article. I love your work in general. I'm really glad to have you here, because I think we make great stuff and we're making more of it than ever. Your latest post was right on the money -- we care about our work here. That's how we got to where we are." "But you devote a lot of your resources to other projects here, don't you? I've heard about you, Mr Page. I've interviewed Death Waits." He winced and she scribbled a note, leaving him on tenterhooks while she wrote. Something cold and angry had hold of her writing arm. "I've interviewed him and heard what he has to say about this place, what you have done." "My hands aren't the cleanest," he said. "But I'm trying to atone." He swallowed. The barman was looking at them. "Look, can I take you for a walk, maybe? Someplace more private?" She thought about it. "Let me get changed," she said. "Meet you in the lobby in ten." She swapped her tennis shoes for walking sandals and put on a clean shirt and long slacks, then draped a scarf over her shoulders like a shawl. Outside, the sunset was painting the lagoon bloody. She was just about to rush back down to the lobby when she stopped and called Lester, her fingers moving of their own volition. "Hey, you," he said. "Still having fun in Mauschwitz?" "It keeps getting weirder here, let me tell you," she said. She told him about Sammy showing up, wanting to talk with her. "Ooh, I'm jealous," Lester said. "He's my arch-rival, after all." "I hadn't thought of it that way. He *is* kind of cute --" "Hey!" "In a slimy, sharky way. Don't worry, Lester. I miss you, you know?" "Really?" "Really. I think I'm about done here. I'm going to come home soon." There was a long pause, then a snuffling sound. She realized he was crying. He slurped. "Sorry. That's great, babe. I missed you." "I -- I missed you too. Listen, I've got to go meet this guy." "Go, go. Call me after dinner and tell me how it goes. Meanwhile, I'm going to go violate the DiaB some more." "Channel it, that's right." "Right on." Sammy met her in the lobby. "I thought we could go for a walk around the lake," he said. "There's a trail that goes all the way around. It's pretty private." She looked at the lake. At twelve o'clock, the main gates of the Magic Kingdom; at three, the retro A-frame Contemporary hotel, at nine, the wedding-cake Grand Floridian Resort. "Lead on," she said. He led her out onto the artificial white-sand beach and around, and a moment later they were on a pathway paved with octagonal tiles, each engraved with the name of a family and a year. "I really liked your article." "You said that."