Truly, the tiny woman's advice is wise and reasonable. He offers the poor young man a reassuring pat on the cheek and a firm nod in farewell. And with the thoroughly uncoordinated rasp of rollerblades over cement, he scoots off with Beegirl in tow.

"Until our paths cross again, dear Troy!" he proclaims in earnest, ringing baritone, waving goodbye with an outflung hand.