“You don’t have an umbrella, do you?”

“No.” Barnabas couldn’t even remember if he’d ever used one.

“You seem like the kind of guy who wouldn’t have an umbrella.”

Barnabas shrugged.

“I bet you like getting back all drenched and miserable. Feeling like you deserve it. Relishing having another reason to be sad.”

Barnabas didn’t know what to say—not that he ever did. Vincent didn’t seem to mind, though.

“Want to borrow an umbrella?” he asked.

Barnabas was surprised to find that he did. Vincent handed him the burgundy umbrella that had been leaning against the wall behind the counter.

“Thanks.”

“Sure.” Vincent smiled.

“Um. I guess I’ll just...go now.”

“Okay?”

“See ya.”

“Yeah.”

Barnabas walked a few blocks before his elation wore off and he started to worry about the ramifications of borrowing the umbrella. The old tyrant wouldn’t be pleased. Not a good look for an evil magician, you know. And red was most definitely the wrong color. Not to mention, what if Vincent needed to use the umbrella before Barnabas got a chance to return it? He had to take it back.

Mercifully, there were no customers when Barnabas got back to the shop, though Vincent looked surprised to see him.

“Don’t you need it?” asked Barnabas.

“What?”

“The umbrella.”

“Well, no. I live here? It’s not like I have to walk home. And anyway, I have another one.”

Imagine having more than one umbrella. “Oh.”

“It’s sweet that you asked, though.” Vincent’s cheeks were red. “Since you’re still here, want a cup of tea?”

Oh, he did. “I can’t. The wizard will be wondering what took so long this time.”

“Will he? I thought he knew everything.”

“All the more reason.”