The problem with relying on a púca's sense of self-control is that you never know when it may be tossed aside in favor of something more interesting ... or more fun. Tadhg's eyes sparkle mischievously as he polishes off the last bite of his pie. A social butterfly he is not and never has been, but neither is he a hermit. Tonight he feels the need to be with people, and he's quite glad that Angela found him.

"So, a róisín dubh, I take it that this is all just too staid and family-friendly for you?" he asks cheerfully. "I certainly can't have a friend getting bored. Did you have a striptease act in mind for the Zygoda, or possibly oil wrestling?" And with that he starts unbuttoning his vest.