From the story, 'LORD'.
"Um, hi." How to address him?
"At last!" Kian laughs and smiles. The belt around his waist catches the light. "You know, it's awesome to meet someone who doesn't call me 'Lord'."
"Oh, right. I'm sorry, should I have?"
"No, it's awesome to be treated normally! But tell me, do I know you?" He frowns. I laugh slightly, not knowing what to say. "You seem familiar ... as though I've met you in a dream."
"I invented you. I mean ... you're my character."
"Well, that makes sense." He pauses. "Not."
For about ten minutes, maybe more, we discuss dancing. Favourite steps, which dances we hate ... things that a non-Irish-Dancer would not understand.
"It's awesome to finally meet you, Del, but I have to go."
"Oh, right. Busy life, is it, being Lord?"
"Yes, indeed." He is just about to leave. He shuts the door, walks away, and I make a snap decision.
"Wait! Kian, wait!" I run to the door, push it open, sprint down the corridor after him. "Kian, wait!"
"What is it?"
"You know you're going to die, right?" I pause. Stare at him. Try to blink back the tears, the lump in my throat. "I'm so sorry!"
Last thing I see is him looking away, looking down at the floor. Utter misery. Utter defeat.
What have I done?