Mary: "You're a lot like Markus, see?"
Tristan: "Sure. I am a large, gay black man, after all."

Mary giggled.

Mary: "No! Not that. Completely devoted. To someone else."

Mary took another sip, a thoughtful look on her face.

Mary: "You just haven't come out of the closet yet."

Tristan sighed. This excursion would be far more bearable if he could throw back a few pints himself, but since his body was real he was nervous about what effect Underworld brew would have on him.

Tristan: "Mary, James and I are just friends."

Mary slapped him on the chest and laughed.

Mary: "Not James! Emily."
Tristan: "Oh. That. Well, I think I'm pretty well out of the closet at this point."

Mary nodded somberly.

Mary: "Yeah. I kind of get the impression that Deanna was the last to know. Well, except for Emily. Wow, you're really a bastard, you know that?"
Tristan: "Yeah, got it."
Mary: "I mean, really you're just a big fat liar."
Tristan: "Yep, that's me."

Tristan spoke flatly, hoping Mary would get the point. What was the point, though? That the truth hurt too much to speak of?

Mary: "It's okay. Don't feel too bad. We're all big fat liars when it comes down to it, aren't we?"

Tristan leaned forward slowly. It suddenly occurred to him that the truth did hurt, and maybe that was the point.

Tristan: "How so?"
Mary: "Oh, you know... oh, hey! I love this song. Do you want to dance?"

Tristan: "Not really. Why don't we order you another pint?"

Tristan waved the bartender over, who gladly set another pint in front of Mary. She produced a ten-dollar bill and told him to keep the change, just as she had for the first three rounds. Tristan couldn't quite work out how she was able to conjure money for beer, but not for a bus ride across the river.

Mary: "So anyway. What was I talking about?"
Tristan: "How we're all liars."
Mary: "Right. I mean, you're in love with Emily, but you go to extreme lengths to hide it. And Emily's in love with you, but she goes to even more extreme lengths to pretend she isn't."

Tristan: "What? Emily's not in love with me."
Mary: "Are you stupid? Of course she is. It's all about the postcard."
Tristan: "Postcard?"
Mary: "It's just that you're not safe."
Tristan: "But Andrew Stone is?"

Mary: "Of course not. Jesus, haven't you been listening to me at all? He just pretends to be safe."
Tristan: "This is sick."
Mary: "Isn't it, though? I don't see why we didn't all off ourselves a long time ago. It's such an effort to maintain these delicate lies, all to avoid the possibility of getting hurt again. Why do we bother? It's just killing us slowly instead of all at once."

Tristan stared at Mary, dumbfounded. He was starting to wonder if maybe he had been drinking all along, because she was suddenly starting to make a lot of sense. He was even beginning to understand other things about her--she was essentially explaining her own psyche to him in the best way that she could through what she understood of other people. The only way that she could make sense of them was based on her own experiences.

Tristan: "And what about you? What's your lie?"

Mary sighed, but she seemed more thoughtful than annoyed.

Mary: "Let me ask you something. Are you conscious of it? Your own deceptions?"
Tristan: "Sometimes. I suppose. But some of them are... I guess I'm tricking myself."
Mary: "I'm not. I know exactly what's what. All the time. I just lie outright and save myself the trouble of agonizing over everything. Emily... she let herself believe that Stone loved her. You let yourself believe that she loved him. You let yourself believe you love Deanna."

Tristan: "You're saying that you know the truth, but you choose to ignore it?"
Mary: "Not exactly."
Tristan: "Are you in love with James?"
Mary: "No."

Tristan: "You aren't? Really?"
Mary: "Come on, I barely know the man. Why does everyone have to be in love with someone all the time? Life isn't all about school-girl crushes."
Tristan: "What is it, then?"

Mary: "James is... James. He's not bad. I know that. Not all bad, anyway. I can see that he has depth. And he seems like a good enough person. And yes, he's very good looking and he has beautiful eyes straight out of a dream and a poet's tongue."
Tristan: "But...?"

Mary: "But it's not worth it. Getting involved. I know how things would go, so it's sort of pointless. It's easier to just cut to the chase and despise him from the beginning."
Tristan: "So you're saying that you can see the future?"
Mary: "It's not like it's some sort of mystical thing. I think everyone can see the future. They just choose not to."
Tristan: "Right, I suppose that's why everyone's always winning the lottery or... making good investments, or--"

Tristan stopped short and stared at Mary so hard she began to sink back.

Mary: "What?"
Tristan: "Nothing, just... déjà vu. Or something. Go on."

Tristan shook his head in an attempt to shake free a distant memory, but it slipped out of his hands before he could make sense of it.

Suddenly Tristan's pants started to vibrate, causing him to nearly fall off his bar stool. Mary looked at him, alarmed.

Mary: "What is it?"
Tristan: "I think it's my phone."

Tristan pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.

Tristan: "Hello? Hello? Is anyone there?"

There was nothing but a hissing and popping noise on the other end of the phone. Tristan frowned at the device before shutting it off.

Mary: "You brought your cell phone to the Underworld?"
Tristan: "I didn't expect to get any calls. It's not like the damn thing ever connected in the real world."

Mary: "Weird. Where were we?"
Tristan: "James."
Mary: "Right. James has been around. He's... in full color, you know? And he's freaking immortal. And I'm just a boring accountant. Obviously we could never be anything. Not anything lasting, anyway."
Tristan: "You're not an accountant. You're an artist. Are you okay?"

Mary snorted and took another sip of her beer.

Mary: "I'm not an artist. I can just... mimic things. Brain to paper. I'm like a human Xerox. And yes, I was an accountant. Before. Before I met you and James and got back into touch with Emily."
Tristan: "That's extremely weird."

Mary shrugged.

Mary: "Better get used to the idea, Stone fired me so I suppose I'll be going back to the day job."
Tristan: "You're so full of shit. Get over yourself."
Mary: "What?"
Tristan: "Boo hoo, you got fired and nobody loves you. Come on. Sing a new song."
Mary: "Oh, whatever! Like you aren't singing the exact same fucking song!"

Tristan: "Well until the blue fairy visits me and I become a real boy so that I can die and go to the un-hell myself, I think the only song that matters here is yours."
Mary: "We are what people think we are, aren't we?"
Tristan: "In a sense. But if you're making people think you're something you aren't then... well... oh, bugger this. My head hurts."

The bartender set a fifth beer in front of Mary, and looked at her anxiously.

Mary: "Oh for god's sake, here's another ten dollars! Go away."
Bartender: "I couldn't help but overhear..."
Mary: "Then maybe you shouldn't have been standing so close!"

Bartender: "We have a room in the back. With games."
Mary: "Fantastic. Games. Just what we need."
Bartender: "They only take tokens. Here, it's on me."

The bartender pushed a stack of bronze tokens toward her. She glanced at Tristan before sweeping them into an open hand and hopping off the barstool.