Grace pauses in the middle of slicing the bread. Anything at all could have been under there — she’d seen some of the schematics for the standard series Big Daddies — and here she’s looking at a Little Sister’s eyes in what might be a man’s face. Not that she can see his face — just those juiced, jaundiced eyes.

She realizes she’s staring outrageously and pins her chin to her chest so she can’t look up.

By the time the cork pops out of the bottle, Grace has cut them each a slice of bread and her facial expression is back under control. “Here,” she says, fishing out a cup for each of them.