"NOTHING." WOLFGANG SHRUGS, STROLLING THROUGH THE COURTYARD with Fitzchivalry. What a name, Wolfgang muses, although to throw stones would be hypocritical of the man who'd chosen the antiquated name Wolfgang. He stares at the fountain in the center of the courtyard and wonders if there's a lake close by. How nice a swim would be, the summer afternoon sweltering. "All I'm saying is that maybe you should do something for yourself for a change." With the back of his wrist, he wipes sweat from his brow. "It's hot. Is there a lake nearby?" He glances back at Fitz, and it's with an eyebrow cocked and a boyish grin and glint in his eye that Wolfgang says, "Going for a swim when it's hot as hell — that would be doing something for yourself for a change."