"Well," says Andrew, about to explain birthday cakes in excruciating detail. He thinks better of it -- Daine ought to get some surprise out of this, oughtn't she? -- and swallows his words. "Well, you'll have to find out when you eat one, won't you?"

As for presents, he's not sure what to even get someone like Daine. A party, perhaps, though that seems like cheating. "And we'll sing one of the blandest songs in human history at you; it'll be great."