"There are some who might consider it one of the rings of hell at times, but I assure you Pumpkin Hollow isn't, in fact, one of those rings." Not yet, anyways. The thought twists his smile with a shade of irony. If their current course doesn't change, he wonders if it could be one day.

Meeting her gaze with his own dark eyes, wrinkled with deep crows feet at their corner, Degas cants his head. "I'm afraid I haven't yet. That doesn't mean such a man hasn't arrived, of course. I assume he's a friend?"