"The truth," Lancelot says -- then hesitates and tilts his head. "So far as you can, of course, without turning into a statue or some-such. But spin isn't really your style, and trying to talk around things might only dig you into a deeper hole. If you're honest, at least they can respect you for that. Stand your ground."

He leans forward and begins soaking Lily's front legs, letting the water pressure clean her right down to her skin. It mists Faolan's legs as it bounces off her, the edges of his rolled-up trousers, and Lancelot smiles wryly up at him.

"You probably would have been better off in shorts," he muses, and Lily tries to back away from the shower head again -- trying to shake her head free of Faolan's hands. Why this! Why the water?