Uilliam shook his head. "I haven't even been near them since Leannan died," he said. "They didn't want me around when he was alive, either. That sister of his."

"She's dead too," Maitiu said bluntly. "But the remainder is no great shakes either." He scowled and put his head in his hands. "I want to get drunk now."

"And we're back to where we started." She reached over to rub Matt's back, shrugging her shoulders at Uilliam. "I'll go get you something. You, come help carry." She said to Uilliam, and headed towards the drinks.

Uilliam stood up, uneasily, looking at Barbara as if he was terrified to go off alone with her but even more terrified to disobey her. Once they were safely out of earshot, he said, in a low voice, "Is this a signal for me to fade back into the crowd?"

"Do you want to?" Barbara asked, as if that was a good possibility. "I'm not explaining this to you, but you really can't talk about the past with him." She said tiredly. "Or shout. Or come up behind him suddenly. He needs people to talk to, but you can't be saying Leannan or Neely O'Niall or Titania every other sentence or remind him of what happened." She nodded at him. "Now order us beer. I can't drink red beer."

He blinked, then gave a sullen look to Barbara. "That's going to be difficult. That's what people do when they haven't seen each other in a while; they talk about old times. We don't have that much left between us. Can you drink mead, at least?"

"Mead will do." She replied and then shrugged. "I don't know. You seem capable of inane conversation. Tell him what you've been up to. Talk about current events." She glared at him for good measure. "But I won't have you upsetting him. If you do, I'll find out where you sleep."

Uilliam swallowed, but pushed a pair of drinks at her. "Look, just . . . take them, what? And I won't bother you again." He rubbed his throat. "I understand things have been rough for him. He does have a past. He can't duck out from it forever."

"What's that supposed to mean? Not ducking out from it?" Barbara said, curious, watching him. "You're upset."

"Hey, we shared time together," he said. "Maybe he's not particularly pleased to see me anymore but . . . but I'm glad he's all right. And that he's better. If he is better."

Barbara took the drinks. "He's not ducking out from it." She told him seriously. "He can't ever forget, because of the bands. The pain doesn't get dull. It's still fresh. Everything. You can recover. He can't." She turned. "He's as better as he can be. Just stop mentioning the past." Then she started back toward Maitiu.