Eb wanders in the room looking a little disheveled. His hands are in his pockets.

“Where have you been, Mr Milk Groootto?” I smirk.

He rolls his eyes. “Nowhere.”

After the whole Divine Indiscretion fiasco, I wasn’t sure when I would see Eb again. But I’m glad he’s here and I know just what he needs. I produce a plate of sugar cookies. He perks up when he sees all the colored frosting. We sit at at the table, munch, and talk texts. It is Epiphany after all, the 12th day of Christmas. Wise-men day.