"Beer sounds just fine," he said with a bit of a nod. He trailed after her quietly, his own socks quiet on the floors, his eyes trained on her ankles and calves of all things. He admired the shape of them. He wondered if she danced.

"The truth is," Krem began, and then faltered a little. Somehow, in the months he'd been in Darrow, it became harder and harder to say the words again. Wine had loosened his tongue, but the nerves still existed.

"One of the truths is," he started over, softer, "I was born a woman."