Now, Christopher had spent so much time in Simone’s home that he knew to hang his jacket in the closet to the right, not the one on the left. The one on the left was usually inhabited by Simone’s pet chinchilla and a host of grumpy robot helpers on a self-imposed time out. He knew to skip the second step at the bottom of the staircase, he knew to keep his hands off any of the indoor plants with purple blooms and most importantly, he knew that Simone liked to be comfortable. Her house parties usually involved people walking around in underclothes, metallic paint smudges and grease. “You won’t believe this new project I’m working on,” Simone called from her tiny kitchen. She had purposely built it into a cramped corner of the front of the house, maybe in some effort to recreate the claustrophobic essence of her childhood home. Or maybe because she was the worst cook in Istaland. “Another helper?” “Emperor Gasso, no! I’ve got enough of those to last a few lifetimes. I might even donate a few, if I can find a worthy cause. That little new one has been spewing dust all over the place these last few days, so he’ll be the first to go.” Christopher frowned. “I’ll take him, then.” “You? You know you shouldn’t have something like that walking around that fancy house of yours. Imagine if your sweet mother dropped by for tea and saw something like that. Imagine that!” “Well, just… don’t give him to someone who won’t take care of him.” Simone burst from the kitchen, holding a tray of mismatched china plates and teacups. “The runt of the litter. Of course, Christopher, of course.” She glanced to Eudora then. “He always relates best to the little ones. Should have seen him when I found this kitten. Christopher insisted on nursing him back to health.” Christopher folded his hands behind his back and smiled. “He’s a fine cat now, isn’t he?” “Oh, he’s fine alright. Tore up that silk I just bought though. You should give him a stern talking to… if he ever comes down from his room.” Simone raised an eyebrow. “Stop standing around, both of you. Get in here and have your tea so I can move on to more important things.” She placed the tray on her table. “No, no, missy, you sit in the other chair. The one on the end is Christopher’s and the princess always gets his chair. Us women can sit on the real chairs.” She plopped down on one of the cushioned chairs and motioned towards the best of the three chairs. “We have to make some concessions for the poor men and their weak backs.” She rolled her eyes and poured herself a cup of tea, snickering all the while. Eudora poured herself a cup of tea without hesitation, and then glanced across the table at Christopher. For a few seconds, he thought perhaps she would complain or make a ladylike comment about how strange Simone was, how strange the house was, how strange HE was, but instead, she locked eyes with him and said, “So you build things.”