"Yeah, it's been good!" He turns his face up to the sun, distracted for a moment. Darrow's heat doesn't carry the heavy mugginess of Washington weather; there's hardly any downside here to spending as much time out of doors as possible.

But that's only a momentary distraction. Buoyed as he is by the weather, he's not blind. "How're you?" The Balladeer furrows his brow, stepping aside and angling his guitar case to keep from completely blocking sidewalk traffic. Maybe he's not launching immediately into trying to figure out what's wrong, but obviously he can tell that something is. Maybe she's been sick?