Shame washed over her. Tears once again clouded her vision. She heard his sharp intake of breath and his fingers laced with hers. "I understand." He whispered.

Too many things. Too many feelings.

"I quit the band." She admitted suddenly. All the elation of having actually followed through with her bravado was gone, leaving her drained and uncertain.

"Yes?"

"I just quit my band ."

"A life changing event to be sure."

"Myndee told me... that you like to make people laugh."

"A revelation." He agreed.

Maille held her breath, his arm remained around her shoulder, the monkey jumped down and left the two of them standing alone.

"Well done." He said and peered into her eyes. "No more tears."

"I don't know why I am crying. I haven't cried so much in all my life."

"You need to cry then."

"I do?"

"Crying cleanses the soul."

"But I don't cry."

"Yes, you do."

"Do you cry?"

"All the time..." he said and she heard the amusement under his words.

"You do not." She said.

"Then why ask?"

She thought about it. "To know."

"Yes." He answered and then pulled her close for a brief second.

Then he was off again, pulling her forward with incredible speed and energy. The dogs and the monkey trotted along behind them, pausing to sniff things. Kell spent the next fifteen minutes describing his ideas for furnishing his home, to which Maille felt increasingly compelled to add her two bits worth, and ended up being completely drawn in.

When they stopped in the marbled and plant infested kitchen, she went to get a glass of water, but Kell surprised her by getting fried ice cream out of the stainless steel freezer and lavishly pouring chocolate syrup over it, he lit a teeny tiny birthday candle in each of their desserts and then hummed absently while he took it to sit on the deck. Maille joined him and as she went to blow out her candle, he stopped her.

"Must sing..."

"It's not my birthday."

"Not mine either. But sing, sing, sing."

"Sing what?" she noticed the wax dripping down the side of the blue candle.

"Beatles." He said, knowing she would know any or all Beatle songs. He quirked an eyebrow at her.

Maille rose to the challenge. "Good choice..." Then sang... "Mean Mister Mustard sleeps in the dark, plays in the park trying to save paper, sleeps in a hole in the road, saving up to buy him some clothes...keeps a ten bob note up his nose...such a mean old man..."

Startled at her choice, Kell laughed outright, a big hearty taken off guard laugh and Maille was delighted. Kell guffawed till tears ran down his cheeks and then he said she had seen him cry, and laughed some more. Maille felt a welling of giggles in her chest, mirth she had suppressed most of her adult life.

They blew out their candles, and began to eat when Kell surprised her again by saying: "You cannot enter a bedroom alone with the bedroom's occupant, right? What about completely alone? Do you have objections to that? Tell me about your vision."

"What vision?"

"For my room ..." he said in exasperation.

"Oh." She laughed and set down her ice cream. "That's yummy." Then she got up.

He yanked on her sarong until she sat back down. "You have no objections then?"

She started to get up again, but he yanked her down, half laying on her. "I will come to the bottom of the stairs." He set down his ice cream.

He was still snorting over her choice of songs, humming with his mirth, when they reached the bottom of the stairs, he yanked her down to her knees and whispered .

"But you must crawl. You may not stand in my room."

*****