In spite of himself Solomon smiled. Maybe not magical, but children could be astoundingly wise at times. Usually when they didn't actually recognise it, and therefore couldn't actually take advantage of it. Solomon couldn't see Paddy's expression, but he felt the priest's regard and met his gaze nearly by accident.

"So long as it's the bike that's blind and not her rider," he murmured, and then rose, one hand on his cane and the other resting on the table. "No. Thank you, Paddy."

He turned to Saffron. "Are you ready?"

He heard her take a deep breath, but he saw it as well--or the metaphysical equivalent, anyway. She stood with a scrape of the chair on linoleum. "Yes, sir."

"You don't have to 'sir' me, either." He wouldn't usually mind being called 'sir', but coming from Saffron, it almost made his skin crawl. She'd been brainwashed. He didn't want any scraping and snivelling from someone conditioned to do so. Not anymore, anyway.

"Yes--um. Wh- what should I call you?"

"Oooh! Ooh, I have some answers to this one! Pick me, pick me!"

"Nothing that Vex suggests," Solomon grumbled, allowing the man to take his arm. This close, he could almost feel the tremble in Dexter's knees. The idiot. "My name will do fine, please."

"Oh. Okay." She still sounded tentative, but hopefully that would change.

"Where to now, Master Solomon Sir?" Dexter asked cheerfully.

"The Midnight Hotel," Solomon said. "Another time, Paddy." He bowed toward Erin, in lieu of being able to see her hand, and nodded at Sean. "Good evening."