“He left with most of the customers when the police came in,” she said, and her gaze was serious and intelligent. “Do you know his name?” “Donal,” she said. “Donald?” I made it a question. She shook her head. “No, he’s very insistent about it being Donal, not after that stupid duck. His quote, not mine. I love classic Disney.” The comment made me smile, but I let it go, and asked the next question. “Is he a regular?” She nodded, making her black pigtails bounce. “Yep, he comes in at least once a week, sometimes twice.” “What’s he like?” She narrowed her eyes and gave me a look. “Why do you want to know?” “Humor me,” I said. “Well, he’s one of those men who are rude until he wants to charm a woman; then he’s sweet.” “Has he hit on you?” “Nope, I’m too human. He only dates fey. He’s very insistent on that.” “Is he fond of any particular kind of fey?” Again, she gave me that look. “Just as full-blooded as he can get them.
