With Joe, Andy was more than happy to let him talk: his words were beautiful, she understood very well why Nicky loved them so much. Everything the man seemed to do was art, be it speech or sketching or the way he could slice with that blade he had. Joe would have been the one she'd choose to immortalize her in ink--written or drawn--if she thought they could ever risk it.

"Yeah, yeah. Andy Claus, I know," she said, teasing just as much as he had and passing him the tiny handful. "Just open it." Inside the fabric scrap were two rings, both simple copper wrapped into a band shape but not joined into a seamless round; each end had a delicate stamp on it, one the rays of a dawning sun and the other a crescent moon.