"Last time, it was the oh no, missing kid deal," says Alice. "He might try that gig again. Or maybe it'll be private investigators. Or I don't fucking know, he'll think of something," he says, "and I don't think you are really thinking about what happens after that, but trust me, I am. And you know, fuck my three wishes, the absolute minimum I want out of my life is that if somebody's gonna beat me to death it'll be somebody else."

"Maybe." He rubs his face with both hands. "As an alternate theory, I propose that I'm just a fuckup."

"Well, that would have been an unguestly thing to say," she mutters.

"The hell does that mean?"

"You've known me a handful of days, we are not even dating, and you're announcing you love me. You don't think for two minutes about whether to commit battery in the cafeteria. You give up before you even begin to come up with ways to get three wishes that do not, strictly speaking, require magic."

"It's not like announcing I love you is really deciding something," he says. "It's just something I noticed. Would you rather I shut up about it?"

"On inspection, it doesn't actually bother me," she shrugs. "But perhaps don't make me explain it to my father by saying it in front of him, should the two of you ever meet." She pauses thoughtfully. "If my mother visits - it's not very likely, but not impossible - then I don't care what she hears. She'd think it was precious."

"If that's the sort of thing yours would do, mine might humor her, but that's not her personal hobby, and she'd actually believe me if I explained that we are only friends and not intending to be future co-parents. Renée'd be more likely to demand your astrological information, or corresponding nonsense for whatever spiritual belief has captured her attention that month."

"Pretty sure Mom's just thinking if I get a steady girlfriend she might finally get rid of me," he says, with no particularly intense emotion attached. "Who knows, might even work. Although Dad probably already thinks we're fucking down here, so he might decide I'm never allowed to see you again. Or congratulate me on a job well done. Sometimes I just don't know which way he's gonna jump."

"Do we need to go upstairs to forestall potential disaster?" Bella inquires. "Also, there's a route to consider: marry a rich foreign national who needs a green card and has lots of money."

"Might be a good idea," he acknowledges of the first thing. Of the second: "Why, you know any of those?"

"No, not personally, but I bet you there's a website for that." She gets up. "Let's see the rest of the house."

"Sure," he says agreeably, and precedes her up the stairs.

Bella follows after, shaking her head once to herself.

"He thinks we're fornicating?" she whispers back. "Also, how did we avoid hearing it? Did we leave the basement one minute in the future and slam the door doing so?"

Bella mimes clapping, silently, and goes to stand near the piano herself.