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It's always a complicated process, trying to jibe the various timelines he has to deal with, but Charlie's determined. This is his third Milliways-based Lent, and he's not going to let it slide just because it's summer in San Diego. Sometimes a bloke needs a time of contemplation and discipline. Even this bloke.

So. Doorway in from California early this morning, out to Las Vegas for Mass, and back to the Bar again.

For a guy with ashes on his forehead, he looks pretty peaceful.

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Rilla makes a face.

"I don't like it. 'Cause Mom and Daddy are always yelling it. I don't like when they yell at me."

"Well," he scratches his beard, "I can't blame you for that. I never liked it when my dad yelled, either."

"What did he yell at you?"

She's curious, and sees no reason why she shouldn't ask.

"Oh . . . well, let's see. Because I would play piano when he was hungover, or I'd bring home bad marks from school, or my brother and I would be playing too loudly . . . my dad wasn't a very nice bloke."

Perhaps TMI for one so young, but too late now.

"My daddy yells at me 'cause I'm a mistake and I ruined his and Mom's plans."

Said with the matter-of-factness of a young child who doesn't even know she should be hurt by that.

Charlie blinks at her. "Christ," he mutters, and wishes for a moment that he could whisk her away to live safely with Jack and Gil, with people who know how precious children are.

He kneels down so he can look into her eyes. "You want to know something true? Whatever plans they had, they are not as important as you."

She looks wary at that, as if he's encroached on some fact of her life, saying it's not true.

Which... he has.

"Nuh-uh," she protests. "There's lotsa things more important than me. Like Daddy's work and Mommy's clubs and Miranda and Aaron and Tony."

"No. Not at all. Mommy's clubs, Daddy's work, your brothers and sisters . . . they're just excuses."

That gets a very serious frown.

It's out of place on her.

"But... Mommy said..."

"Your mommy said stuff that's not true. What is true is that you are wonderful and beautiful--and you found your way here, and that makes you very special."

She ponders this for a moment. Then she lights up.

"So, I'm special like Sarah! 'Cause she was special even when she had to live in the attic with Becky and Miss Minchin was really mean to her and her Daddy was dead and they took all her things away!"

Someone loves A Little Princess, obviously.

He nods even though he doesn't get the reference at all. "Just like Sarah. Exactly."

She drops her voice to a thrilled whisper.

"Does that mean I'm a real princess? Not just pretend?"

"Well, I don't know about that. But you should act like one even if you're not, don't you think?"

"Uh-huh. 'Cause if I am a real princess, if I already act like one, I won't have to learn how!"

Gotta love six-year-old logic.

It's easier than toddler logic, anyway.

"That sounds very wise."

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