“Caspiterina! Doppio! Your hair…” Doppio’s braid was jostled. “When on earth did it get so long?”

“Um…awhile?”

“And these—tattoos?” Doppio looked down as his sleeve was pushed back for the priest to inspect his skin. “Did Piras really give you these already?”

“No way!” Doppio snapped, feeling a rush of indignation. “I asked him over and over, and he…um…” He trailed off. ‘He what? Who?’ The name sparked a feeling but the memory cut off before he could fully recall it. He suddenly shrunk back as if worried the priest would be angry with him, but Father Serra only laughed a full-bodied joyous laugh.

“Don’t look so guilty. I knew you were trying to get tattoos for awhile. I figured you wouldn’t miss your chance on your first excursion away.”