Nathan sat at the table and ate his oatmeal quietly. His wife regarded him, eyes low. Eventually, she coughed. "Is everything all right, dear?"
The Lamplighter glanced up, and smiled. "Of course, Monica. Why should it not be?" He forced a soft laugh from his lips.
"Well, you've managed to make that one bowl of oatmeal last for twenty straight minutes," noted Monica.
Nathan blinked then laughed again. "Why... yes, you're right. Sorry about that." He began to shovel the food into his mouth.
Monica massaged her temples. "Nathan... that is not what I meant by pointing that out."
"Good oatmeal," declared Nathan. "I say, the way you mix in the cheese is..."
"Don't change the subject, Nathan," said Monica.
"You're the one who mentioned the oatmeal," replied Nathan defensively, standing up.
Monica winced. "Nathan, I do not want to have conversations like this..."
"Then you married the wrong man," replied Nathan. "I'm a Lamplighter. We see things. Awful things. Things we cannot speak of. "
Monica raised an eyebrow. "Is this...? Did you people have another drunken party in your guildhall? Is that what this is about?"
"Our initiation ceremonies are not drunken parties!" said Nathan. "And no. It is... something else. Something I cannot speak of." He peered at her significantly, and went to the door. "Now I must be off. I will be meeting with someone I cannot talk about soon, to speak of things I cannot tell you about." And with that he strode out the door.
Monica sat there and waited for him to come back when he realized he had forgotten his lunch.