His answer only amuses her, in a light way that's unexpected in her grief. Again, that brings guilt, but what doesn't, these days? She might as well be Catholic.

"I am, after all, memorable," she concedes, lightening her grip only slightly as she tries to straighten up again. "And you're the witty master bounty hunter, is it not true? You must forgive me, it is not now your work, but your hair..."

Her smile is remarkably fond as she pushes up onto her toes to brush her fingertips against his hairline. "It reminds me in no small amount of my dearest friend Mark. Oh, I miss him so." Unbid, as much as any of her touch has been, Anne falls against him in a tight hug, her smile wavering at the last moment. "I miss them all. Now her more than breath itself. What shall I do, Master Spiegel?"