Andre looked confused. "Can't you...err...get someone's undivided attention by talking to them? Or making them supper?"

She smiled and sighed heavily, letting out a puff of white steam. "Kinda hard to do when you're a sailor and the cook's Madrigan and he won't let you near his stuff without throwin' eggs at you. If I didn't know damn well he was still alive, I'd kind of wonder if that's not him in the kitchen."

Andre put his hands on Spider's arms, rubbing them to warm him up. "I was wondering if maybe it was the cook before Ashon. I just don't see what they'd have anything against us for."

"Who knows? Maybe they ate the last cook. Maybe they would've et Ashon if we hadn't come along. It's hard enough to tell why some live people are angry, much less when they're dead and can't talk." She stood up and popped her back, then knelt to gather things back into her box. "Let's go back down or walk around or something. My butt's gone numb."

"Ah...right," Andre said, and chuckled, pulling himself to his feet and holding a hand out to her. "I want to put three more sweaters on you. And then maybe blackmail someone for a good hiding spot."

"Some example you'll set." She took his hand and squeezed it. "And do you really want to put more layers on me if all you're lookin' for is some place to get under 'em?" She stamped her feet in the cold. "Goddamn Tuatha have plush-lined skins or somethin'."