“Yeah, I went hunting once. Shot a deer in the leg. Had to kill it with a shovel. Took about an hour. Why do you ask?”

“Yeah, but what if you went back and killed your own grandfather?"He stared at me, baffled. "Why the fuck would you do that?”

“By the time he was done with the deer it had been dark three hours and his bad leg was singing 'Ave Maria'.”

“He smiled, looking into the flames. "He used to sleep on the foot of my bed, bad breath and gas and all, and I even took him hunting.""It's odd to take a dog hunting?""Max? Yeah, sort of like taking along a brass band. He saved a lot of deer from death.”

“You’ve gone drinking?” Ashton asked.“She was quite the lushington the other night. But don’t worry, I took her home okay.”“You took me to the basement to go hunting for vicious killer automata.”“Well, yeah, but it was at home.”

“Land of the Dead? Is that what you dream about?” she asks. “Boy who kills ghosts for a living?” “No. I dream about penguins doing bridge construction. Don’t ask why.”