"Not any more." Harold appeared from the passage to the kitchen with an armful of scrunched-up newspapers. His white hair belied his youth but his Diablo moustache looked like he'd been licking out a bowl of coffee ice-cream. "Someone gave me the idea of charging a sourcing fee instead of a deposit. That way I get to keep it either way."
"Clever." Ada walked over to him and proffered her cheek for a kiss. "You've lost weight." She patted the concave curve of his stomach. "Where's all that adorable puppy fat gone? Also, you have something on your face."
"Mother, I'm forty-two." Harold dumped the newspaper in a large bog behind the desk. "I lost the puppy fat years ago, thank you very much and I happen to think my moustache makes me look dashing."
"Dashing to the bathroom, maybe. It makes you look as if you've been rimming and forgot to wash." Ada took hold of his cheek between her thumb and forefinger and shook it. "I'm only telling you what your best friend won't."
"And I value your input." Harold shook her off and rubbed her cheek. "And who's this?"
"This is Legion."
"Legion?" Harold stepped forward to shake hands.
"You remember." Ada patted him on the back. "Mark chapter five."