Masks
It occured to him, as they lay entertwined, that Wolfwood had never asked about the mask. About the shell, sure, but never the mask. He wasn't sure why this bothered him so. It did, obviously, because he was lying there brooding instead of waking up his partner and demanding another go.
It hit E.G. like a Plant surge. He was falling in love. He didn't want to be society's-dregs-hired-assassins-quasi-coworkers-who-fucked-each-other anymore. His near-dead heart warmed at the thought of mutual monogamy.
"Shit." Having a heart was very bad in this business. Tomorrow, he'd break it, and no one would be the wiser.
It works if you count "society's-dregs-hired-assassins-quasi-coworkers-who-fucked-each-other" as one word, which I did. E.G. MINE/WOLFWOOD 4 EVAR!11!