Foreman's smile widened, and he squeezed Amber's hand where it had tensed on his thigh. That was the best argument she could have made for this stupid festival. Not deep-fried foods or tasteless decorations. It was enough, more than enough, to know Amber thought of herself as his, even in such an innocent context. "I could buy twice as many teddy bears for the peds ward for half the money, and I wouldn't have to freeze for a few hours to do it," he pointed out. It wasn't a serious objection, but he was hardly going to just drop the argument.

Still doubtful, Foreman nodded, taking the last few turns until they'd reached a gravel parking lot, with cars already half-filling it. It was only about five-thirty, but the carnival's major audience probably had bedtimes no later than seven. Foreman parked near the edge of the lot, where he'd be less likely to come back to a dent in his door. The lights of the midway--which looked like it consisted of a carousel, an undersized Ferris wheel, and not much else--reflected out over the rows of cars. When Foreman switched off the ignition and stepped out, he could hear the shrieks already, and the rumble of machinery that probably hadn't been oiled in months, let alone checked by a qualified mechanic. The air smelled like burned grease and refined sugar, which started his stomach rumbling despite himself--he hadn't had much lunch. "All right," Foreman said, turning to Amber, taunting her with the challenge. "Prove it."