Someone looks at Piero too long. A stranger. A traveling merchant. Arlekin notices. Arlekin's eyes go sharp. He walks over, grabs Piero's hand, and says "mine." One word. Quiet. Then he walks away like nothing happened. Piero follows him, heart pounding. "Did you just—" "I didn't say anything." "You said 'mine.'" "Did I? Weird. Must've been the wind." But he doesn't let go of Piero's hand. Not for the rest of the walk. Not for dinner. Not until they fall asleep still tangled together.