Kirk had his pistol pointing at the figure's stomach now, and the figure blinked, while the breeze touched and ruffled the long bleached hair.
The figure raised a large hand, palm up, and curled the fingers. "Hello?" he said softly. Kirk was surprised by the word and the polite sound of it.
Kirk remained motionless, pistol pointing. "Who are you?" he said through his teeth.
"Harry," said the figure, as though Kirk surely should know who he was. "I'm Harry, of course."
"Yes?" said Kirk carefully. "Harry?"
The figure nodded. "Harry Loren, don't you know?"
"Oh, yes," Kirk said, his eyes watchful. "Harry Loren." There was something about the man's eyes, Kirk decided. They were deep set and very bright within their sockets. They didn't match the softness of the speech. Harry Loren smiled and showed his yellow teeth. "Who are you?" he asked politely.
"I'm William," Kirk said. It was as though he might be speaking to a frightened child, he thought, who held a sharp knife in his hands. "William Kirk, of course."
Harry Loren nodded apologetically. "Oh, yes. I can't remember everyone. It's been so long. How are you, William?"
Kirk's eyes flickered. "I'm fine."