Alistair sits in the middle.

...can she sit by Alistair?

He doesn't object.

"Sorry about this," he whispers.

"Christopher, don't keep the kids waiting."

"I'll get the food."

And he comes back with hot dogs and grilled vegetables for everyone.

Food!

"Isn't Kit a nickname for Christopher, too?" she asks Kit.

"Dad always valued competition. He figured one of us would live up to the name."

"...live up to?"

"It means 'Christ-bearer'." 

"—Ah. Okay."

And here's Mr. Argent, bearing water and wine. 

He sits, pouring himself and his wife a glass. 

"Sadde, do you drink? We have beer in the fridge." 

"Dad, stop." 

"I don't, but thank you," she says in her most diplomatic tone.

"Good answer. Also say no to hard drugs, soft drugs, and rock music." 

"I'm just curious about the girl. I'm not one to take out my deep-seated issues on innocent bystanders."

"Sadde, tell us about your family. Any good stories?" 

"Not really. My family's just me and my mom, we've been just us since I was little. And she can't do magic."

"There must be something. What did you guys do for your last birthday? Any holiday traditions? What's her favorite food?"

She grins. "We baked a cake together! We don't have lots of traditions but we usually give each other small gifts for birthdays and Christmas. She likes baked potatoes with lots of mixed filings." She looks around. "What about you all?"

"Last year, Kit took Alistair skydiving."

"Small gifts sound nice. Very personal. Intimate."

"Our old man didn't really believe in celebrating, so Chris here is doing his best to give Alistair all the cheap toys he can."

"Didn't believe in celebrating?"

"Holidays, grades, sports...whether you win or lose, you keep going, you don't stop to mark the occasion."

"Huh. Celebrating's nice, though, and creates good incentives."