Horst has got to know that's something's wrong because by sunset, Johannes is already up and dressed. He's an early riser by habit, but not so much when he's sick--of late he's been given to sequestering himself away in his dressing-gown in a remote corner of the house and feeling sorry for himself. By the time the last sunlight is gone and his undead brother rises for the night, though, Johannes is in shirtsleeves stirring a cup of coffee in the kitchen.

He's got a day's growth of stubble and he looks as red-eyed and red-nosed as before, though, and in lieu of saying hello he blows his nose into a fresh tissue. Then he curls his fingers around his coffee cup and looks at the wall on the left side of the kitchen. Then the wall on the right side of the kitchen. Then the ceiling.

"Good evening," he says after a moment. He looks for another place to settle his eyes and decides on the opposite counter this time.

How to put this, exactly?

Johannes takes another straightfaced sip of his coffee. "It's certainly getting warmer now," he says blandly.