It took a while, but now it has happened.
Andreas approached Alice with some hesitation and for a while it seemed like he was unable of finding the right words, but eventually the glue that held his lips together was dissolved, and thus he spoke; he had seen Him. He spoke not with the erratic fear of a leporine, however there was a decidedly overhanging fear in the room as he re-told his story. It had been a normal day (typical), he began, until he saw something standing outside one of the windows. Andreas had been peacefully rolling down the hall when he saw the stranger; an unknown man whom, he soon realised, he didn't want anything to do with. A blank face, tall, thin-- every detail fitting.
He blinked and the man in the suit was gone instantaneously. He had not told anyone, out of fear of being mocked, or told that he was delirious. Couldn't have a loony in a wheelchair out and about, now could we? They talked a bit while Alice contemplated whether she should tell him or not - but it was not such a hard decision.
"The Tailor?" he said. "That is an odd name."
Odd, perhaps, but is he not a tailor so say? Just like an author, a painter - creating, painting a scene; fabricating the characters, adding, deleting; sewing the whole story together with thread made out of sinew.
Alice told her friend that He had many names. We have many names for the things we love - or as we say in Swedish, "Kärt barn har många namn".
"There is no need to worry," she said. "He is merely observing."