[ The flick of his tongue against Byerly's fingers, as he pulls the bread into his mouth, is entirely unnecessary. Or maybe actually it is entirely necessary. Depends on how one looks at these things. He makes an ooh, good face while he chews and swallows, which hasn't completely faded by the time he says, ] Jaquet Geiger. He's a bookseller.

[ No one By would have met, except by chance encounter. ]

He's... I don't know. He was sweet. And funny. [ A nod to mark their mutual preference for laughing. ] Kind of fussy—he would go around unfolding all the dog ears in my books. He held the record, though, until you. We lasted almost a whole year.