[ti]private[/ti]We built this city

Glace didn't have an accent. Not here, anyway, and nothing you would notice chatting to him on the street. It was something that rose in him like laughter when he talked to other Italians, or had a little too much wine. But here, talking with Yggy in the church in the green glow of an awakening altar his words were as clear as cloudless skies.

"The Yankees, actually," Glace said. "I'm based in Manhattan, so there's a bit of history there. And I'll see if I can get my sons to visit for a game. I wonder if free tickets will convince them to fly in for a weekend." He smiled at the idea. It had been years since everyone had gone to a game together.

"You know, I've been in America for almost thirty years now, and I've never been to Canada. Okay once, when I went to see Niagara falls, but that's it. Isn't that wild?" Despite having the money to travel, Glace often found his holiday time pulled between the family back in Italy, and the already daunting task of trying to wrangle the Anderson clan back to his home in New York. Though maybe he should be making more time for quick trips.

As the light shifted to purple, Glace felt a familiar, euphoric chill in the air. He gasped. This was it. The thrill of falling. The heart-skipping beat as your foot fails to find the top step. The moment right before you wake from a dream.

Glace's eyes widened as he saw the egg. He knew it like the face of his own children. "Where did you get that Yggy?" Glace asked. His voice was all black ice and silken dreams slipping through clasped hands. "I've been searching for one of those for quite some time."