Martin leans over my shoulder, curiously. "The Martin?" he asks, a bit bemused.

"Yes, sweetie," I reply. "The Martin... as in Septim."

"Oh!" He gets a conspiratorial look on his face, one that I recognise from all these months of him living in my head. "How many of me does she think there are?"

"I don't know?" I'm confused, and more concerned with playing my game.

"Tell her," he grins, blushing a little, and I just know he's going to make a terrible pun based on one of the books he's read recently. "Tell her I'm not the Martin, I'm a Martin - we come in six packs!"

"I'm sure the fangirls will be delighted to hear that," I mutter, reaching for my laptop to type it in.