The ride home was less tense than the others that had come before. Lupus immediately dug into the bag of books and began flipping through them. He was amazed by the brightly colored illustrations. The only paintings he was familiar with were the murals painted on the walls of well-to-do households, and these pictures were a far cry from the pastoral or mythical themes favored in those cases. He held up one book and said, "Mozelle?"

"Wait till we're stopped at a light. The last thing I need is to be distracted and get a ticket." They stopped at an intersection, and she glanced over. "What?"

"Yes--what?" He pointed at the page.

She looked, then gave one of the few genuine smiles he'd seen since they'd come to this time and place. "It's a cat."

He examined the picture doubtfully. "Walks like man."

"Yes, but it's a cat. See..." She reached over and tapped the page. "Here's the whiskers, and here's the tail, and he's fuzzy."

"But..."

Lupus pointed again, and she shrugged, her smile widening. "It's a cat--in a hat." He gave her one of those tolerant 'if you say so' looks, flipped a couple of pages, then pointed again. "And that's a Thing. Don't ask me what those are, because I honestly don't know, and I'm not the only generation to be puzzled by them. Look, Dr. Seuss is probably a bit much for you to start with. Here..." She rummaged in the sack and came up with a much smaller book. "See how you can do with Pat the Bunny. If you're good, I'll read you Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day later."

Lupus grunted, flipping through the books. //"That may be something I can relate to."//

"Can't we all?"

Once they were home, Mozelle seated him at the kitchen table and handed him one thin, but very large, book. "We start with the basics--A, B, Cs. This one should help--it has pictures for each letter. Since the Roman alphabet has some things in common with ours, you should be able to pick it up pretty quickly." She gave him a thoughtful look, then said slowly, "You have a few qualities I'm not fond of, but stupidity isn't one of them."

Lupus noticed that the edginess he'd noticed in her since he'd arrived was absent. Her hand rested on the tabletop, and he rested his hand over hers, stroking the smooth skin. Her expression softened for a moment, then tightened, and she firmly pulled her hand away. "A little clueless some times, but not stupid. That's why I have hope for you. Start on that, and I'll make supper."

Lupus wasn't sure of how she intended to cook, since there was no hearth in sight. He had assumed that she must fetch her meals from one of the public eating places that seemed so prevalent. She pulled what looked like a pink lump out of the tall metal box. He noticed, with no little surprise, that there was a light inside the box. He considered asking her about it, but decided to wait. He didn't think it would be a good idea to irritate her any more at the moment.

She peeled something clear and clinging off it, then set a pan on one of the metal racks on the other box. He jumped up, though, when she turned a knob, and a blue flame sprang up under the pan. She waved at him. "Don't panic--it's controlled. As long as it doesn't burn yellow--" she peeked under the pan, "and it isn't." She pointed at him. "But don't you ever touch this thing, understand?"

//"Don't worry about that."//

She nodded. "Not for a long time, anyway. Hit the books again." He smiled and slapped one of them. She snorted, but smiled reluctantly. "Comedian."

She crumbled the pink mass into the pan, and a sizzle rose. A moment later Lupus lifted his head, sniffing hungrily. It was meat, just not in a form he was used to. She was more interesting than the book, so he watched as she alternated between stirring the meat and chopping an onion. She added it to the pan, and the smell became even more tempting.

When it had reached a state that suited her, she poured water into the pan, and went to the cabinet. The box she removed seemed to be made of stiff paper, and the front was decorated with what looked like a simple, large white hand. The odd thing was that the hand had feet and facial features. What was it about this culture, that they tried to give human characteristics to everything?

She pulled two more packages out of the box, one of them also clear, and filled with what looked like twigs. He watched in puzzlement as she emptied those, and some sort of brownish powder into the pot, stirring it again, then placed a lid on it. She noticed his look, and said, "Just Hamburger Helper, but I jazz it up a little. I wish I'd thought to get mushrooms, but I wasn't about to take you into a grocery store. Lord, I can just picture what would have happened with the displays. With my luck it would have been Three Stooges time." She came over and sat next to him. "I'll just need to stir that in a little while. How are you doing with the book?"

Lupus turned to the front of the book and began pointing, and identifying. "Pomum. Crustum. Cattus." He smiled. "No hat."

Her lips twitched. "No hat," she agreed. "Okay, do you know the English words for those?"

"Brittanic? Apple. Cake?"

"Bread."

"Ah! Yes, bread. And cat." He looked at the picture again, and tapped it, then pointed to the little cat that had entered the kitchen and was now rubbing against his legs. "Like Stinkpot."

"There are no cats like Stinkpot. He is unique. But the coloring is similar." She frowned. "You know, I am really not looking forward to trying to teach you the difference in the way some letters are pronounced. I don't know if learning to read phonetically helped or hindered me. I mean, I spent years pronouncing antiques as 'an-ti-cues', and Michael as 'Mitch-a-el'. The concept of the hard and soft C should be a real bitch, and forget 'cello'."

Lupus blinked. "Yes."

Mozelle rubbed her face, smiling ruefully. "Right. Cart before horse time." She suddenly jerked, as if remembering something vital had been forgotten. "Sticking! Ack!" She hurried over and stirred the contents of the pan quickly, muttering, "Don't, don't, don't!" Then she sighed. "Okay. We won't be eating one rubbery lump, with gravy."

Lupus blinked again. "Good."

She chuckled. "You know, you might be boyfriend material at that. You've got the 'I'll humor her' down pat. Okay, the thing to remember is that the picture next to the word? The first sound of its name will be the same as the sound of the letter that starts the word, got it?"

"Yes."

"For awhile you're going to be very popular with women who favor the strong, silent type."

"Popular?"

"They're going to like you a lot."

He frowned. //"I don't care if they do. You're the only one I want to be popular with."//

He smile faded a little. "You've got to stop saying stuff like that, Lupus."

"Why?"

She checked the pan again, then sat at the table with him, running a hand up into her hair. "Christ. I've never had to have a 'relationship' discussion before. Probably because I've never had a relationship." She took a deep breath. "Lupus, I guess you've realized that things between us won't be the same here as they were back in your home." He nodded. "But do you realize how complete the change is? What kind of claim do you think you have on me?"

He studied her, then said quietly, //"I hope that my claim is on your heart."//

She stared at him. "Are you going to use the 'L' word? Are you going to say love?"

"You are all I care for."

Her expression hardened a little. "You still can't say it. What's so damn hard about..." She stopped, then gave a bitter laugh. "Oh, hell! Half the men today can't say it, and the other half throw it around like it's nothing. I don't know why I expect you to be any different."

She took a breath, then reached down and hefted the cat into her lap. She hugged him, and he squeaked happily, reaching up one paw to tap her chin. He settled down to purr as she began scratching behind his ears. "Lupus, caring isn't enough. I care about Stinkpot, here--a lot. He's a big part of my life. I take care of him, I spoil him, I pet him, I even let him sleep in my bed. But if he could talk, and he offered an opinion about anything, I doubt I'd do more than pat him on the head and tell him to go play. Sound familiar? If he ran away, I'd do all I could to get him back, and if I lost him, I'd cry. I'd boo-hoo my eyes out. And some day I'd get another cat, and the memory would fade. And I wouldn't feel empty."

"Mozelle," he said quietly, "not like that."

She put Stinkpot down and stood, going to the sink to wash her hands. "You're going to have to prove it, Lupus."

She obviously didn't want to discuss things, and Lupus honestly had no idea what he would say, so he went back to the books (or at least pretended to), and she put together a salad. When it was time to eat, she pointed out the selection of dressings in the refrigerator, then watched in disbelief as he opened each bottle, sniffed the contents experimentally, and poured a little of each on his salad. He ate the results with relish, and she couldn't help shaking her head. "I can't wait to see the expressions on peoples' faces the first time I take you to a salad bar."

He was fascinated by the noodles, twirling them around his fork, then poking experimentally at the dangling bits. Lupus ate heartily. When he finished, he said, //"Mozelle, you reveal more talents all the time. I didn't know you were a cook."//

"Only with a gas stove," she assured him, taking up the plates. After rinsing them in the sink, she put them in the dishwasher.

Lupus didn't think that the dishes were very clean, and he wondered why she was storing them in another metal box, but he didn't think it would be wise to criticize her housekeeping. When she tapped the face of the box and a rushing sound came from it, he jumped up, wide eyed, and she sighed. "Lupus, lots of things make noise in this world, and it doesn't mean they're about to explode. You'll just have to learn which sounds mean trouble, but I suppose it'll take time."

After the meal they again watched the strange entertainment box--Something called CSI. It seemed to be a drama about murder, from what Lupus could gather. The image of a young woman's body on a bathroom floor, staring blankly at a dark puddle of her own blood, made him blanche. She noticed, and assured him, "It isn't real, Lupus. She isn't dead."

"She looks dead."

"It's all make-up and tricks, I promise you. That stuff on the floor? I can make something that looks almost exactly like it with Karo syrup and red food dye. I have done, for school. It looks good, but it's hell to get out of your clothes. I ruined a blouse doing a demonstration of how that works."

"People enjoy this?"

"Lupus, people used to go to the gladiator shows all the time back where you come from."

"I don't."

Her expression softened a little. "No, you didn't, did you? I know your father and mother did, but you stayed home. I'd forgotten about that. But believe me, this is different. Everyone knows it's fake. But I guess I'll have to hold off on showing you the gory horror movies for awhile."

Once he got past the gruesome aspects of the show, Lupus became very involved with the story. Mozelle seemed to become a little more alert, a little more interested when one of the men was on the screen--a young man with messy hair. He decided that he didn't like her cheering on another man--not even a fictional one.

After the program ended (Lupus complained that they didn't tell what became of the murderer, whether he was held accountable, and punished. Mozelle told him that was just the way it was, but that she sometimes had issues with that, too), Mozelle went and rummaged in the hallway closet, then went into her bedroom. Lupus was considering following her, but it was probably better that he didn't, since she came out, carrying a pillow.

"I hope you appreciate my sacrifice. I haven't voluntarily slept with one pillow since I saved up my allowance to buy a second one." She pushed the pile of sheets, pillow, and a blanket into his arms. "Pleasant dreams, and don't you dare go outside without me unless the house is on fire." Lupus just stood, looking at her. She pointed at the sofa, and he reluctantly sat down, clutching the bedding to his chest. "I'll turn off the lights, so you don't have to worry about tripping over anything on your way back to the couch." She flipped the light switch.

The light was on in the hall, shining behind her. She should have been just a silhouette, a dark form. But the light seemed to wind its way through her curls, illuminating bright threads that he hadn't seen before, and the light slid around the outline of her figure, seeming to mold the curves. Her face was hidden by the shadows, and Lupus thought that like this, he could be looking at any woman. Indeed, he could be seeing Woman herself, the essence of what was female in the universe. But still there was something familiar about her, dearly familiar. Even if he had suddenly come upon this image, he would have known her.

Mozelle just stood there for a moment, studying Lupus. *He can't really see me like this,* she thought, and she took the opportunity to really look at him. In Rome, he had been so self-assured, in control. He knew his world, and his place in it--and the place of everyone else. *And that was the problem. He doesn't look so sure of everything now. Maybe... What he believed was true and fixed has been wiped away. Maybe he'll be able to build a new concept of things. Maybe.* "You know where the toilet is if you need it, and if Stinkpot wants to sleep with you, you might as well just resign yourself to it. Put him down, and he'll jump back up. Shut him in another room, and he'll wake us both up, and maybe the neighbors as well. Put him outside, and I'll smack you silly. Understood?" Lupus nodded, and she shut off the hall light before going to her room.

Lupus sighed heavily. This was going to be even worse than the first night that he spent at the Acadamy. At least then he had known some of the other boys, and had been able to tell himself that he could run away and go home if things got too bad. Now he knew only one person in this world, and she had very justifiable issues with him.

Stinkpot sauntered into the livingroom and sat in front of him, tilting his head to gaze up at Lupus' face. He made a chirping noise. Lupus put aside his bedding and reached down, pulling the little animal up into his lap. He liked cats, but his mother had always refused to have pets in the house. The cat, sensing a soft touch, stood on his hind legs, putting his paws on Lupus'collar bones and stretching up to give his nose a companionable sniff. Deciding that he'd be happy to own Lupus, Stinkpot rubbed his head thoroughly along the young man's jaw, then settled down to purr in his lap.

Lupus stroked him, gently worrying the cat's neck ruff, and said with irony, //"She'll let you sleep in her bed, so what are you doing out here?"//