"Talkative, aren't you," Brigitte remarks. But it's okay. She knows someone even more monosyllabic in the village, and it's made her accustomed to summoning up her patience, filling in those blanks, bouncing off that metaphorical brick wall.

"Look," she says after a moment, with a glance to the door. "I've got to head out and get some more wood. Promise you will not burn the place down if I leave you here?"