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[devoutish]

[CAPTCHA-avoiding continuation of this post.]

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[bywolves]

I like reading to you. [ He sounds tired. His voice cracks in the middle, mostly from the strain of using it so much. He hasn't talked a lot lately. ] I like listening to you read, too.

[devoutish]

Mm, yeah. I don't think Matt and Trevor were supposed to sound as if they were from London, though.

[bywolves]

[ Snort. ] I liked that extra touch.

[devoutish]

Nice, innit. Londoners from--

[He double-checks the back of the book.]

-- Colorado.

[bywolves]

You never know. Maybe that was the writer's intention. It never says they aren't from London.

[devoutish]

No, no; a Londoner would never move to Colorado. There's nothing there. Like most of America.

[bywolves]

Sure sounds like there's plenty where these two live. [ He taps the book. ]

[devoutish]

A pub. Roads. Mountains. A hospital.

[And plenty more stuff that the book mentioned, but listen.]

[bywolves]

[ Royce elbows him very gently. ]

You're being obtuse. [ Which is like Alfie's whole personality, but listen. ]

[devoutish]

I think there was a lake mentioned somewhere as well, wasn't there? I'm sure it was a very big lake.

[bywolves]

I think it was much more of a city than you're thinking.

[devoutish]

America's only got four cities, Royce; you can trust me on this.

[bywolves]

[ Royce laughs a little against Alfie's chest, a small sound. ]

I don't know enough about America to argue, so I suppose I'll take your word for it.

[devoutish]

[He gently takes Royce's left hand, palm facing out, and dots his finger along his fingertips.]

New York, Boston, Chicago.

[He locates Chicago a quarter of a inch above Boston, right about where Maine would be. Then he moves to the lefthand side, and pokes a finger at Royce's wrist.]

San Francisco. Everything else - barren wasteland.

[bywolves]

Mm. [ He smiles sleepily, watching Alfie map out America on his hand. ]

So a barren wasteland to you is a city with a hospital, several taverns and enough housing that a ride from one house to another is fifteen minutes with a car. [ He laughs a little. ] You'd be miserable in Elan.

[devoutish]

Right, make me a map of Elan, then; go on.

[bywolves]

[ He does. On Alfie's right hand, he presses his finger to Alfie's palm, the tip of his ring finger, the tip of his thumb, the tip of his pinky, and his wrist. ]

Avryn. Trent. Erivan. Calis. Delgos. Sort of.

[devoutish]

"Sort of"?

[bywolves]

The best approximation of Elan I can do on a hand, "sort of".

[devoutish]

And they're all cities? Sounds nice enough to me. Will you take me to Trent someday?

[bywolves]

More like what you'd refer to as countries, I suppose. [ A beat. ] You'd hate Trent. If I were to take you anywhere I'd take you to Colnora. Or - Tur Del Fur, maybe. Dagastan.

[ He kind of misses Elan a little. ] Maranon is nice all year. Never snows too hard. Never rains too hard, the sunshine is perfect.

[devoutish]

I'd like Colnora, from what I've heard of it. What's so awful about Trent?

[bywolves]

[ He shrugs. ] Empty, barren landscapes. Small mountain towns.

[devoutish]

Are they at least beautiful?

[bywolves]

Mm. They can be.