Wyatt crouched, gathering up some snow to fortify the snowman's base despite the way his hands protested the cold. It reminded him of home, of the way every pumpkin in his patch had to be named Jack, or Jeb would be sad, and how no matter what, no snowman could ever bear that name.

It seemed these days he could remember more of his past, even if it were just faint glimmers of it.

And then DG spoke, and suddenly he wished he'd never asked her advice in the first place. It was just easier to be quiet, it seemed. Easier, a great deal less embarrassing, and maybe there were some books at the library that could help just as much as a friend.

Or maybe he was just skating the fine line between nerves and a nervous breakdown. Maybe he was just paranoid. Maybe she wasn't being evasive, and maybe she really was okay with the concept of him and Smecker; maybe it was an Other Side thing, something lost in translation.

And maybe he couldn't help his jaw settling into a line of defense. Just in case her Other Side was anything like Paul's, and something had rubbed off in the fifteen annuals spent there. He found himself bracing for a blow he couldn't understand, and he didn't like it one bit.

He shrugged, eyes on the snow. "I don't know, kiddo. Who do you think I'm talking about?"