Meanwhile, Ivan, having gone home upon Aunt Cordelia's return to tentatively make sure his erstwhile hookup isn't still lurking and finding the coast clear, is not present to witness the immediate content of the crisis, but he shows up a bit later after work lets him out.

"Hullo, coz. What basement monster are you talking to today?"

"Me. What did I tell you," says a voice from behind the stacked crates of zorkmids.

"Ivan, meet Mark, who is hiding in the corner for unclear reasons. Mark, meet your cousin Ivan. Or don't, as you prefer."

"...Hi, Mark. I assume you are not actually a basement monster. What did you tell him?"

"That I heard you coming."

"Wasn't exactly being stealthy. Why are you behind the crate of zorkmids? I'm not going to be horrified by the sight of you, I look at Miles all the time."

"He's been there for half an hour," says Miles. "You are not the cause of the hiding. Mark, why are you hiding?"

Silence.

"Maybe he's stealing your zorkmids. Your precious, irreplaceable zorkmids."

Snort.

"I think that's a no," says Miles.

"Working on deciphering his code?"

"It's tough going."

"Well, since he's apparently decided he prefers not to come out and meet me I'll just get out of your hair, shall I."

"Do you want to come out and meet your cousin, Mark."

"No," says Mark. "I like him too much."

Miles makes a this-is-what-I've-been-dealing-with-all-day sort of gesture/expression.

"...Did I mishear that? It doesn't make any sense, you see."

"No, you heard him right. Mark, care to explain what hidden assumptions you left out this time?"

"If I like someone, why would I want to make them interact with me?"

"Because the alternative appears to be being very depressing about it instead? Go on, come out."

Hesitant silence.

"I don't know what you find so charming about Ivan, anyway," says Miles.

"Lots of people like me, Miles."

"Unaccountably."

"I have people skills. 'S a thing. Though I admit I wasn't particularly trying to charm Mark."

"Anyway, Miles, you know how I feel about interacting with real people."

"No, I don't. And am I not a real person now?"

Disgruntled noise.

"Have you been made of soap and twine all along, Miles?"

"No!"

"String and glue? The fevered nightmares of Illyan?"

"Mark has a much better claim to being made of Illyan's fevered nightmares than I do."

A giggle from behind the zorkmid crates.

"Anyway. Perhaps in the future I will find something insensitive to do and then you'll like me less and we can greet each other face to face, possibly frowning at the time."

"Noooo," giggles Mark.

"Implausible or undesirable?" inquires Ivan.

"Both!"

"I suppose I can carry on pretending you're an invisible basement monster if you like."

Silence.

"Wondering if I should've got Aunt Cordelia to, I don't know, brief me on my way in."

"That might've helped."

"Is it too late now?"

"Probably not."

"Yes. And to not-see Mark."

"Thank you for looking after Miles while I was gone. ...Was Mark hiding again?"

"Behind a crate of zorkmids. Wouldn't come out."

"Oh, dear. Did he say why?"

"He likes me too much to make me interact with him, where 'interact with' apparently means 'look at' because he was willing to talk."

"That's why I came looking for you."

"It goes something like this," she says. "He knows that a lot of things about his past and the way he thinks and reacts to situations are likely to upset people, but he has a severely underdeveloped ability to tell which things. And he knows that. So he can rarely be convinced to take the risk of talking to anyone, especially someone he likes. The two exceptions are Miles, because he has excellent intuitions about how Miles will react to things, and me, because I managed with difficulty to convince him that I don't mind. We've been trying to convince him to branch out, but apparently talking from behind a crate of zorkmids is as far as Miles has managed to coax him. And he seems to like hiding in dark corners even if there isn't anyone in the room he's afraid to talk to; I think he just finds it comforting."

"I don't get how he thinks coming out from behind the crate would make anything worse. I told him, I look at Miles all the time. He looks like Miles, right?"

"Exactly like Miles, yes. Maybe the crate makes him feel better protected from the social obligation to make small talk."

"Some crate."

"I'd make a joke about it being a magical crate, but it's a little harder to make that kind of joke now."

"Just a bit. Mark knows about all the things, right, the zorkmids didn't have to be explained as something else?"

"He does know about all the magic-related things, yes. Otherwise I would've found it hard to explain how I got him here from Earth in less than a day."

"Good, that makes it easier."

"Yes."

"Any advice on extracting him from his hidey corner, or is the advice 'don't'?"

"You could try being patient. He might get to be less shy as he settles in. And, um... try not to be too startled if he appears suddenly out of nowhere. It's a habit of his."

"Okay. Does he at least dress differently from Miles or should I distinguish them entirely by the one's habit of spontaneous apparition?"

"He borrows Miles's clothes, I'm afraid. But it's not at all hard to tell them apart most of the time."

"What's the tell?"

"Mark has that Earth-London accent, and he - well, doesn't act anything like Miles. You'll see what I mean if he ever comes out from behind his crate. His intentional Miles impression is quite perfect - he could've fooled me when we'd met, if I hadn't known perfectly well my firstborn was on another planet - but we've asked him not to use it where anyone might get confused, and he's abiding by that so far."

"Okay. The accent does help, but only if he says something while not behind a crate, which I wouldn't put money on."

"He might not," she agrees. "But it really isn't hard to tell them apart. Even their posture is different."

"As to that, I can't say for sure. But giving him some time can't hurt."