Gideon watched her go, then return, taking in the view she provided in nearly everything she did. She was a pretty thing, Princess was.
He sighed, taking another long pull from the glass, then pushed out the empty chair with his foot. "Sit a second," he said, brushing his fringe aside and picking up the spoon again.
"See, I'm older than I look. Sort of. I was twenty-five about twenty-something years ago. I know it sounds weird, but I died. In eighty-one. So stuff that happened twenty years ago don't mean much to me, because I wasn't around to see them. Last I remember, Tom owned the place, crabby old bastard." He took another bite, knowing that the story sounded fantastic, except to the people who'd seen it firsthand. He wondered if she'd known anyone who'd come back in this weird way.
"Not that I'm complaining about the being alive bit, but it's odd. Everything's changed." He shrugged, then chuckled. "So you're Minerva Abbott, then. Unless you're Mrs. Somebody?"