Marcello raised an eyebrow. "He's always one of the most socially gifted kids I've ever met."

"You're giving the kid way too much credit," she said, but lifted a shoulder. "You want to sic blue on blue? Go for it. He can pass himself off as a kid with a crush; it happens all the time."

"I wasn't going to sic him on him so much as get the kid's perspective. I'm not going to send Brammie to talk to a man who may be a lunatic," Marcello replied. "I wouldn't put the boy in that kind of position."

"He'll love it," she told him. "Probably throw up less of a red flag than you trying to schmooze with the guy."

Marcello frowned. "Do you think so for real, or are you just trying to start something else?" he asked.

"Snickerdoodle," she said, with great affection, "I am always trying to start something. But in this case I think you also have a point."

Marcello smiled at that. "I'll talk to Niabheara about it," he said, nodding. "Any other advice? I know advice isn't really your milieu, but given the circumstances..."

"I suck at advice. My advice would be something like 'let Davide get in a hate-fuck before he strangles the guy,' but that's going to upset everyone but me, so . . ." She patted her finger against her cheek, thoughtfully. "Actually, you could do something for me: will you please tell your wife that not everyone with a dick plans to use it on her? She freaks out every time she's alone with the guy." She tapped her temple. "Like an icepick. Right here."

Marcello laughed, a little nervously. "Have you spent much time being a man?" he asked. "Because that was an extremely...female sentiment. You know. Evil penises and all. As if we all walk around thinking of them as some kind of weapon. If they were weapons, we couldn't exactly think with them, could we?"

"Don't look at me. I like penises. So long as they know their place." She smirked. "I'm talking about your wife."