The sight of Wolfgang with their hair down, barefoot among the changing trees and wearing his coat, makes Michael pause. It’s hard not to stare. There’s too much blood in his skin, he can feel it, something has to be wrong.
Averting his eyes, he thinks instead about their conversation. He can’t believe Wolfgang still enjoyed the holiday after the way it ended, but Michael doesn’t mention it. “I used to hate Halloween,” he admits. “This was the best one I’ve had.”