This conversation is with seanan_mcguire. We have conversations like this all the time.

Seanan: He Who Walks Behind the Rows demands sacrifice.

Me: I'm all fresh out of sacrifices. I used my last one for Mabon.

Seanan: Oh, don't worry, I can improvise. Just drink this.

Me: Got my redbull. Thanks.

Seanan: But it's nice and tasty and full of harvest goodness.

Me: I'm knee deep in Colonial Gothic, turning Plymouth MA into a place of mystery and horror. What are you up to? Besides sacrificial shopping.

Seanan: Plinking at Blackout, inking, pondering Friday's story for the Book View Cafe.

Me: Where you drug and sacrifice your writing friends to He Who Walks Behind the Rows?

Seanan: Well, see, it's all a matter of who's not otherwise engaged.

Me: So, the unbusy writer is in danger?

Seanan: Pretty much!

Me: Well, good thing I'm so busy. If I see an idle writer, I'll send them your way. Promise.

Seanan: Cool! Have a cookie.

Me: Thank you! Hey, this isn't poisoned, is it? I said I was busy. No time to be sacrificed.

Seanan: No, no poison. Just tasty chocolate and cornmeal. Mmmmm, corn.

Me: Mmmm. Ok. Thanks. Loves the cookie.

Seanan: Let me know when you want a nap.

Me: *sigh* I should never have trusted you and your sudden but inevitable betrayal.

Seanan: My laugh is an evil laugh, sweetie.

Me: I love you, too.