Kelsey cried for an hour.

Dan didn't leave the table. He just sat there with her. He didn't say anything. He passed her tissues. He made more tea when the first cup went cold.

Around midnight, she looked up.

“He called you a bank teller,” she said. “For six months. In front of everyone. I laughed every time.”

“I know.”

“I posted the videos.”

“I know.”

“I called you Uncle Beige when I was seventeen.”

“I know. It's a little bit true.”

She laughed. A wet, broken laugh. But a real one.

“Why didn't you ever say anything back?” she said. “When he was being so horrible? You could have told everyone what you really do. Just once. To shut him up.”

Dan thought about it.

“Because I didn't need him to know,” he said. “I knew. Your sister knew who I was, even if she didn't know my job title. That was enough.”

He smiled a small smile.

“And anyway,” he said, “my job is to notice things quietly. You can't do that if you're the loudest person in the room.”