---
"You do not eat people," John said. He rubbed his forehead with two fingers as if the name there was a stain he could wash off. "I am only John. They banished me at fifteen. I walked out. The road raised me. The forge taught me. The rest I learned the hard way. I do not belong to White House. White name does not belong to me."
Fizz floated a little closer, small face serious for once. "I know," he said. "I know you are only John. But sometimes the world uses names like sticks. I do not like sticks. I like fire. I will burn the sticks."
John huffed a breath that almost smiled and then did not. "Just finish your food," he said. "We will sleep. We will meet Sera in the morning."
Fizz nodded and lowered himself back to the bowl, eating with neat little bites as if to prove he could behave at least on Tuesdays. He could not resist one more poke. "If you marry Sera, will you be John Black-White. Or John Gray. I vote for John Pancake. It sounds strong and yummy."
"Eat," John said.
