He wasn't gonna fuss. Saints knew there'd been a time when he didn't do much eating neither. And Felix could get down right scrawny without Mildmay to remind him he couldn't live on books and air.

"I c'n ask Emma to make you something. Soup?" Mildmay wasn't use for much around here, but he couldn't just sit on his ass all day either, so he'd been helping out some in the kitchen, washing dishes, peeling potatoes, grunt work. He liked Emma. She was kind, but quiet and didn't mind if he didn't talk. She never pointed out the stool that stayed tucked under one of the counters, or commented the times he used it 'steada standing for too long.