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There are few things better in winter than curling up under a bunch of blankets beside a roaring fire, with a mug of hot chocolate (with marshmallows, of course) and a stack of new books.

Especially when it is all covered with a sense of getting away with something.

This would be the opinion of ten-year-old Rae Seddon, who is enjoying it immensely.

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"Yeah," Rae agrees with a slight sigh, still rather put out despite the delicious cupcake.

"It's all part of growing up, Rae," Dr. Lecter says. "That's unfortunately not restricted to being allowed to cook and bake more."

"I'm only a few years from being a teenager. I can do more than she thinks. She shouldn't have to worry so much," she says, with the younger shadow of a familiar look of frustration, and the lack of perspective about childhood that comes from being in the midst of it.

"Maybe Charlie can get her to listen."

"If he trusts your baking skills, he might."

"Charlie knows what I can do better than she does, and trusts me to be careful."

He doesn't feel the need to hover.

"But he usually stays out of any trouble between me and Mom, so he might not help."

"You might try talking to both of them at once," Dr. Lecter suggests.

The girl considers this, taking another bite of cupcake.

"I could try, though it'll likely be a week from tomorrow when I'd get a chance - Charlie's home on Mondays 'cause the coffeehouse is closed."

"It'll be much more sensible to only have that talk when your grounded time is over, anyway," Dr. Lecter says.

"And, I suppose, it'll give me time to think of what I'll say," she admits, nodding.

"You could rehearse with me, if you want to," Dr. Lecter offers.

"That would be weird," she giggles.

Dr. Lecter is not nearly as intimidating as her mother, for one.

"It's quite a common technique," Dr. Lecter assures her. "Do feel free to fall back on it."

"I don't know if I could do it, though. Not really," she smiles as she shrugs, the idea still odd and somewhat amusing to contemplate. "Talking to you isn't like talking to my Mom or Charlie."

"You... actually let me finish what I'm trying to say, and wouldn't get upset like she might."

"You could teach me to act like your mother, or Charlie," Dr. Lecter says. "What I should or shouldn't do, playing them."

The girl's eyebrows rise, her hair swinging slightly as she shakes her head. "I don't want you acting like my mother. Better that you act like you."

The world can only handle one Sadie Seddon. Sometimes specific bits of the world can't even handle one of her.

"I can... I know what I want to say to her, really. That I don't want her to worry so much. She's got enough to worry about without worrying about me, too, when she doesn't need to. I mean, the Wars scare her - they scare everybody - and she works hard not to show that she's scared. And she's got Kenny to take care of, and the bills, and the coffeehouse stuff, on top of that. If I can help, I want to. And I can. So I should."

It makes sense to her.

"But she'll say that it's too dangerous and I'm too young, and I've not got any answer better than 'Yes, it is, and no, I'm not.'"

"You want her to worry less on your account, not worry more," Dr. Lecter sums it up.

Rae nods. That's just it.

"But I don't know how to get her to see that."

"You tell her," Dr. Lecter says, "in a quiet moment when she's not stressed, and you're not being punished."

"I might ask Charlie, too, sometime this week," she adds, nodding a little, "just to see if he thinks it'll work. It'd be nice if I could... help make things better."

Things are bad enough.

"Maybe she'll let me help take care of Kenny more soon, too. She's let me hold him, and play with him a little, and keep an eye on him while she's working or in the kitchen. I've already started memorizing stories so I can tell them to him when he's a bit older."

"I'm sure that will be helpful, if she accepts it," Dr. Lecter says.

The girl nods. She wants to be the good kid. Reliable, trustworthy, useful. A good big sister.

It's just difficult, sometimes, when one is thwarted trying to show it.

"You've been doing okay?" she asks, realizing belatedly that she'd spent all this time talking about herself.

"Oh yes," Dr. Lecter says. "I've been making cupcakes lately."

"So I see!" Rae smiles, holding up the plate with the lone remaining cupcake. "Would you like to split the last one?"

"Yes, that is a good idea," Dr. Lecter says. "That's a lime one."

"Mmm!"

After a moment of searching, Rae spots a waitrat passing nearby. "Excuse me, Ivanhoe. Could you bring us a knife to cut the cupcake in two with? Thank you very much."