"Mr. Hurley." Simon said, smile never faltering. His eyes flashed back to Zech, and there was a light sparkle in his eyes, as the corners of his eyes twitched again. But it was not his place to speak.

Zechariah not so discreetly elbowed Christopher behind the elbow. Christopher looked back at him with glazed, uncomprehending eyes.

“We were just about to get a good seat,” Christopher said with a hint of scolding, like it was Simon’s fault they were over there instead.

“I like... gefilte!” Zechariah declared, for grudgingly eating it out of obligation was the same as liking it – right?

According to ‘Samuel’s buttocks, yes. Yes it was.

Christopher yanked him along.

"Sorry for having kept you, Mr. Hurley." Simon played his part.

A few more months by his estimation.

He had no idea what gefilte was, but he wasn't even sure if it was directed to him. The next moment, Christopher was dragging Zech along and Simon just nodded as a greeting.