And now Noah was speechless. Like, really. He stared, deadpan, at Macy. She held the door open and continued talking to him about -- talking in ways that didn't make sense. He blinked hard for a second, closed his eyes, inhaled deeply from his cigarette, and then opened his eyes one more time. The world looked the same. Lopsided, a little dreary, with Macy standing there, waiting for him to go inside. But his heart pounded out its tattoo a little slower. He didn't try to come up with any response to the riddle Macy was stringing in front of him and instead, dropped his cigarette into a gray pile of snow off to the side of the stairs, and walked inside.
"You're nuts, I think," he said after a moment, shrugging off his coat into a nice pile on the floor. "Unless this is your twisted idea of getting back at me for all the shit I pull. In which case, touche, but fuck you all the same."