Absence made the heart grow fonder. So far, that philosophy had kept him from her wrath.

Blissfully unaware of Nisa’s growing homicidal fantasies (fanned to greater life by the gust of his retreat at that), Aslan dressed hastily. His dressing-up tendencies had not occurred spontaneously. At first, he’d thought Nisa was just taking on sloppy lovers and had braced to be an uncle. The collection of miscellaneous clothing articles grew, and grew.

When their father was alive, Aslan would lightly tease Nisa about when the articles might ‘disappear’. He’d figured that at least one of these mysterious lovers would stick. (Was that when Adam had disappeared?) They never did, and instead ended up drifting into Aslan’s closet.

The idea that he was wearing murdered men’s clothing had been … off-putting, back when he still had the capacity to be mortified. Now, it was just another reminder of the life he had chosen.

There were only a handful of outfits that he’d actually bought fitted for himself, which made going out as himself far simpler.

“Sorry,” Aslan said when he saw Nisa there, watching expectantly.

He didn’t know what he was apologizing for, but he assumed there was always something.

“Is there anything I can do to help before I go?”