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situations was humor in one form or another, and there was no place in my parents’ circles for a quick-witted daughter.
    Oblivious to my thoughts, he glanced down at my shoes, frowning. “Very well. We shall find another means of transportation.”
    Leaving the wall, he approached me with catlike grace, hand stretched out. I jerked my head away and he appeared hurt by my action.
    “Remain still,” he said softly, stroking my cheek lightly. His fingertips felt like they were filled with liquid sunshine, and at his touch, heat seemed to seep into my cheekbones. I got the distinct impression he was assessing my body, and not in a boy-checking-out-girl way.
    “You are weakened,” he said finally. “The accident has diminished our strength. We both need sustenance.”
    “There’s that word again.”
    Cocking his head, he asked, “Is there a different word you would prefer?”
    “No, it’s fine, as long as I’m not the one on your menu,” I quipped uncertainly.
    “I do not consume human flesh. Is this practice common in your city?”
    “Uh, no.”
    He looked relieved. “That is good. I would rather starve on my sojourn.”
    “Well, at least I can cross ‘cannibal’ off the list. I was worried you were going to slice me up into little pieces and pull out your sauté pan.” His brows lowered in concentration and then lifted as his mouth curved up into a genuine smile. His expression was so bright and full of delight that I found myself wanting to bask in the display. It was as if he’d been covered by storm clouds, but in that brief moment the sun peeked through, warming me in a way that made me want to see him smile all over again.
    I’d been very wrong in my initial assessment of him. He wasn’t a cover model, a lunatic, an axe murderer, or any of the other labels I’d tried to make fit. The power that settled on his shoulders didn’t come from money or good looks, though it was obvious he had at least one of those. No, this guy’s confidence wasn’t based on a superiority complex. It wasn’t superficial.
    “Perhaps later,” he said with a twitch of his lips. “Tell me, what harvests are gathered in this iron city? I do not see farms, but I smell food everywhere.”
    Harvests?
    Taking hold of my hands and pulling me up from the bench, he asked, “Will you help me find it, Lily?”
    I got the sense he was asking for much more than directions to the nearest fast-food joint, and was suddenly sure of a few things. First, he was way out of his element, literally a stranger in a strange land. Second, although he was definitely comfortable in his own skin, he was experiencing moments of confusion and doubt, which made him unsure of himself and hesitant, and he chafed at those feelings. Third, he really seemed to need me. That above all else rang loud and clear.
    Maybe the solution was simple. Perhaps if I just bought him a burger and pointed him in whatever direction he needed to go, this pseudo-hypnosis thing would end, we could amicably part ways, and I could head home and try to make sense of all this. I hypothesized that perhaps some unknown force had brought the two of us together, and my role as this guy’s guardian angel would soon be over. If that wasn’t the case, I had no idea what was going on.
    I often found that the most obvious solution was the right one. He wanted to eat, so I’d feed him and then take it from there.
    “Well”—I scanned the street for a place to eat—“in New York City they have a little bit of everything.”
    “This city is called New York?”
    “Yes,” I said slowly, watching his expression. If he was playing at not knowing where he was, he was an exemplary actor.
    “Excellent,” he said. “Take me, then, to a little bit of everything.”
    I gave his skirt a pointed look. “Um, I think the only place you would fit the dress code for would be a hot dog stand.”
    Wrinkling his nose, he exclaimed, “You eat…dogs? That is almost as bad as