Chapter 25: Greedily she ingorg’d without restraint[.] – IX, 791
Ezra stares up at a demented Lane blankly.
“You’re joking,” Ezra decides. “You’re joking, right? Taking the piss?”
The smile on Lane’s face does not falter for a second.
“Why? Was I being funny? No, I’m not joking. Ezra, this is the most fun we’ve planned to have in weeks. Can you at least pretend to be excited?”
They pace up and down, twirling their sword expertly.
For a moment, Ezra loses himself in watching the muscles in Lane’s arms flex as they maneuver the weapon.
It lasts for about as long as he can fool himself into believing Lane hadn’t suggested what they’d just suggested.
“Lane, mate, it’s the bloody Louvre. If we get caught, that’s prison forever. Please, there has to be something else. Anything else.”
His eyes are pleading on Lane’s.
Lane quits their pacing and comes to level with Ezra, their expression serious, but not unkind. Their sword goes into its scabbard on their back, before they grasp both Ezra’s hands in their own.