Volume 2, Part XV: Technicalities

The morning sun rose high in the sky and it was overhead by the time they finished their narrative. He knew she was leaving out parts of the story as she recounted her half of the story in efficient, business-like sentences. It was Torio the Ambassador speaking, not Torio the Woman and her tale lacked all the emotional shadings he knew was there.

Finally, Lightfoot put the quill down. "Quite the impressive tale. I will personally recommend that Nasher reward you both greatly for what you have done here. But we are getting ahead of ourselves. First, we must get you back to Neverwinter."

Molly stood up from where she had been leaning against the wall. "Disguises, and then get you both aboard our ship. We can't risk a polymorph spell. The Brotherhood will be screening for that. Any preference, the both of you?"

Torio looked over at Sand for a moment; her eyes narrowed thoughtfully; what would get them out of Luskan as fast and easily as possible? At least relatively so.

"Someone older," she said quietly as she eyed Sand. "An old wizard; they're looking for a spry young human, first off, and Luskans in general tend to overlook the old and decrepit. And I...I'm your..." She paused, thinking.

"...apprentice?" suggested Molly, smiling. "Disguising you as a boy would be easier than you might think...and they are looking for someone who looks decidedly female."

Torio shook her head. "I can't cast a single spell; they'd know I'm not a wizard's apprentice."

Silverfox chuckled. "We never said you'd be a particularly good apprentice."

Torio snorted, but she looked over at Sand, her eyebrows arching in question. "It might work," she said quietly. "What do you think?"

Sand burst out laughing at Silverfox's comment. "We can give her small wands and such." He half turned to Torio. "I should teach you to use wands, it would come in handy." And added silently, so only she could hear: An old wizard and his boy apprentice? That will mean I have to keep my hands away from you...

He nodded. "Very well. How do you propose to hide my ears?"

Molly smiled again. "A hat? You would be surprised at how simple tools are often the most effective against Luskans. They are always seeking plots and complexities and fail to recognize that which is paraded in front of their noses."

Sand couldn't help but scoffing. "A hat...you propose to get me out of Luskan by way of a hat. Very well, I suppose more foolhardy ideas have worked."

Torio nodded at the spies. "It's worth a try then," she said dryly, giving Sand an arch look. "He's most certainly caustic enough for an old man." You never know, Bodaes...ships are large, with plenty of nooks and crannies...

She cleared her throat, realizing she had fallen wistfully silent for a split second. "Well! Shall we prepare?"

Molly took her arm, pulling her to her feet. "You gents have the wizard," she said almost cheerfully, guiding Torio back to the storage room. She grabbed various items from the shelves, bottles and articles of clothing, before leading her back towards one of the little closet-like rooms.

Torio winced as Molly once again tugged down the binding across her chest. "Is it necessary for it to be so tight?"

"You should have asked the gods for sparser assets," said the woman, grunting slightly as she yanked the webbed cloth tight and wound it around Torio's chest yet again. "That ought to do it; how does it feel?"

"Atrociously uncomfortable."

Molly grinned. "I know. Worn it myself a few times; you'll get a bit used to it, don't worry." She handed Torio her tunic. Once the latter was dressed again, Molly handed her a pair of small, knee high kid boots and a plain surcoat; as Torio pulled them on she began brushing her hair back from her face, sweeping it away from her forehead so that it waved back neatly in an imitation of a common men's hairstyle. "You're lucky; you'll have to watch the actual words your say, but you should be able to pass yourself off as young enough to where your voice hasn't changed yet." She opened one of the bottles and smeared a thin layer of soot over her face, then pushed her in front of a mirror. "How do you like that?"

Silverfox and Lightfoot immediately began rummaging through the assorted piles of gear and clothing. They found a small day pillow, and using yards of bandages, secured it to his back, telling him, "Hunch over!" They began powdering his hair white before knotting it up and securing it under a large floppy, absolutely ridiculous looking hat. A large bulky robe was thrown over him, a gnarled staff shoved in his hand, some black charcoal rubbed on his face...

...and then he was shoved unceremoniously in front of a small mirror.

There was no disguising his eyes. They remained as clear, sharp and blue as ever. Sand tried squinting slightly, rolling his shoulders forward, taking small shuffling steps. The large hat did wonders for actually hiding his face and hair. He turned and looked at the others. "It's good. Let's hope it's good enough to work."

Lightfoot shook his head slightly, "You'll have to change your voice, Sand."

Sand stared back into the mirror, clearing his throat and then saying in a raspy voice, "Let's hope it's good enough to work." By the gods, he sounded and looked...atrociously human! and old! "Do I have a name?"

Silverfox shrugged. "It's up to you."

He mused a moment, trying to come up with a very human name. "Roslyn. My name will be Roslyn."

When the door opened and Torio re-entered the room, her normally, decidedly feminine appearance was replaced with a slightly grubby, surly-looking, sweet-faced boy that seemed to be constantly slouching, thanks to the too-large surcoat on her shoulders. Torio stared at Sand for a moment, her mouth twitching in a suppressed smile. She stepped forward, and bowed only a little awkwardly. "Master," she said, keeping her voice as monotone as possible, "Your apprentice is here."

Sand nearly burst out laughing when he saw Torio, her strong feminine features suddenly hidden under the clothes. He tried straightening up, realized he couldn't under the pillow and hobbled over to her. He kept his voice low. "You're late, boy. Fetch me my walking cloak." He tilted his head to the side. "Or should I be more like Aldanon? A little more...mentally absent?" He backed up and tried another line. "Eh! Eh! You there! Boy! Are you my boy?"

Torio couldn't help snickering. "Mentally absent, is it? It would definitely dissuade suspicion." She fixed a bored, rather irritated expression on her face and turned...Molly was thrusting a cloak into her hands, and she took it, walking to Sand and draping it over his shoulders, judiciously tying it around his neck. "There, Master," she said. "Can't have your old bones catching cold." Technically your bones are rather old, Bodaes...

It was ridiculous, foolhardy, and completely ludicrous, what they were doing. And it would probably work. Lightfoot was chuckling behind his hand. "We'll provision you with what we have, but we don't have much. A few potions, some sparse, simple weapons, and maybe Silverfox here can find a wand or two. Molly, would you make a trip to the docks? See if our 'Captain' is ready and willing to take our guests aboard?"

Sand gave Torio a scathing look. Technically but I'll have you know my bones are in perfect condition. Except the shoulder. "So...ah...can we get out of the costumes? I'm short enough as it is compared to you humans and this bent over position - it makes me feel a little more...short."

Silverfox laughed and began pulling Sand out of his disguise. "You'll have to rinse out your hair again to get the powder out but I think we can do this." Sand straightened his back, relieved. The older spy continued speaking, "Aye we'll give you what we can, but until things settle, it's a risk every time we leave the house. Meaning you two will be stuck in here for at least three days. We'll bring down some cards or dice or games so you don't kill each other out of boredom."

Molly stood, pulling on her own cloak. "We'll see what our good captain will say to a charter. I'll be back soon with news. Stay low, all of you."

Stay low, all of you.

That had turned into a foreboding premonition.

"He needs a few days," Molly had said. "They're asking for papers now from anyone leaving the city, and forging documents takes time. And money." She had had a pained, worried look on her face. "We'll keep you updated, but for now, we can't let you leave the safehouse; it's too risky with the streets the way they are."

That was a day ago, and Torio already felt like her bones were going to crawl out of her skin, she was so restless. They had random games, cards, handfuls of dice scattered across the table. At the moment, she was standing with a wand in her hand, pointing it towards a sad, wilted looking potted plant. There should have been bolts of ice shooting from the tip of the magical instrument, but instead, the plant was still triumphantly un-frozen and alive.

Her mouth was drawn in a tight line. "This isn't working, Sand," she said irritably. "Are you sure this is how I'm supposed to do it?"

"Yes yes, you're just not doing it right." He held a practice wooden dowel in his hands. "It's like this - you need to flick your wrists more and send the energy forward through the wand and not just hold it in your hand." He gave a quick demonstration. "See? Flick the wrist. Flick it."

When they had first been told they would be here for a few days Sand initially had rejoiced. Private time with Torio, holed up, safe, with a bed, a bath, some food. But it had become rapidly apparent that being trapped here, as pleasant as it was, was still being trapped here. Word from the outside was still bleak.

He ran his hand through his hair. "You know what, dear girl? Let's just take a break from this for now. We'll do something else. Play a game or something fun."

Torio sighed in disgust, tossing the wand next to her intended prey; the plant seemed strangely smug. "You don't have to request it twice." She was, inwardly, bitterly disappointed that this was so difficult for her. Things had usually come easy for her; languages, books, diagrams, customs, practices...she was used to her mind grabbing onto such things and taking to them like a fish to water, sharp and clever. But magic...

...it was disappointing because it was something Sand was so talented at, despite her constant ribbing at his hedge-worthy powers. She knew he was powerful...and that she was completely lacking in whatever intuition was needed to sink into using magical items like a...fish to water, as it were.

She found that she wanted to please him. And was inherently incapable of doing so; he was being patient, but she had to fight back a scathing bolt of irritation whenever he uttered, "Flick it!"

She slumped down into a chair; her trews were rolled up to slightly below her knees, her feet bare and legs exposed due to the stifling warmth of the underground safehouse, and their inability to open the door for more than a few minutes at a time; she propped her feet up on the table and began organizing the cards. "So what'll it be, most powerful wizard? A game of Tarok? Pokiir? As Nas?" She shuffled the faded, tattered cards in her hands, smiling at him slyly.

Sand followed her to the table and kissed her lightly before taking a seat opposite to her. He was wearing just a simple undershirt and pants, the heavy heat of the room making his hair stick to his neck. "I'm game for a round of As Nas. I don't have much in the way of coin to gamble though, dear girl. Perhaps we could bet..." He looked around the room. "Tins of sardines?"

Torio snorted laughingly...she glanced around. "Well," she said archly. "We are allowed to open the door to the street in the next hour for a bit of air...are you willing to wager the time you spend at the top of the stairs against mine?" She dealt out two cards to him, and then two to herself, setting the rest of the deck next to her hand. She eyed her cards; a one of spades and a two of clubs. She glanced at Sand over the top of them, her eyes narrowed. "How about it, Bodaes?

He toyed with the cards a moment. "Very well. You play a dangerous game, Ambassador. Risking your free air time - you certainly are a high roller." It had been a while since he last played the game but the rules were simple enough. The deck had 5 suits - hearts, cups, spades, clubs and diamonds - numbered from 1 to 5. You had to make a hand with the same suit, the same numbers, full houses, triples or pairs. He peaked at his cards. 4 of hearts, 3 of clubs. "I bet 2 minutes of fresh air."

"Two whole minutes?" She tapped one foot against the other, eyeing him speculatively. "Starting big, are we? I'll see your bet." She reached for the deck; they'd have to keep track of their numbers in their head. She watched him covertly from behind her cards as she slid two more across the table to him, dropping two in front of herself afterwards; he had a faint line between his brows as he looked down at his hand, his blue eyes narrowed slightly and gleaming with a subtle craftiness.

She smiled slightly, glancing down at her cards. The five of diamonds and the two of diamonds. "And I think I'll add another three minutes to it." Inwardly she winced slightly; five whole minutes with her face pressed to the crack in the door and the cool air caressing her cheeks. A high roller indeed. She watched him expectantly.

Sand mused it over. Her bet was significant and he only had a pair of 3s, the best he could hope for on the next hand was another 3 since the suits weren't matched up at all. She had a very slight smile on her face and Sand had to wonder if she was bluffing or if she had a good hand...

"All right dear girl, you can have my two minutes. I fold." He picked up the deck and began shuffling it, fighting the urge to look at her winning hand. Or her mind, for that matter. He dealt out the two cards and glanced at his hand. 3 of cups, 5 of cups. "Your bet, dear girl."

Torio triumphantly took her cards; the prospect of an extra two minutes in front of the door left her smugly satisfied, and yet...she wondered if she'd actually be able to take them from him. And frowned slightly at the fact that she was wondering such a thing. Going soft, are we?

You're wondering that now, over a card game, after all that's happened? Maybe you're going daft as well, Torio Claven.

A five of spades and a two of cups. Hmmm. Not that she was terribly worried, but..."One minute," she said, tapping a finger against her cards absently. She kept her eyes trained carefully on the cards in front of her, but gently, carefully, touched his mind, attempting to get a glimpse of his cards...

"Only a minute, Torio? All right. I'll match your minute." He began dealing out the next two cards when suddenly there was a familiar tickling...

He looked up sharply at Torio. She was staring very intently at her cards, but the corners of her lips were twitching. He immediately blocked out the thoughts of his hand and childishly flashed her an image of him naked. "Keep your eyes - and your mind - on your own cards, Ambassador Claven. Or we'll go back to practicing flicking your wrist with the wand."

He dealt out the two cards and looked down at his own. 1 of spades, 4 of diamonds. Tymora was not being kind of him. Time to bluff. He slipped in a small smile and then immediately covered it up. "Your bet."

She drew her next cards, flashing him a narrow look. "I might partake in some honest peeking, but that is downright unfair, wizard." She hunched her shoulders sulkily, feeling a slight, rebellious and heated stirring in her blood at the image of him naked.

Clearing her throat distractedly, she eyed her cards. Two of cups and one of diamonds. She had a pair, at least...flicking my wrist indeed, I'd like to flick something of his...he looked, briefly, inordinately pleased with himself, and she smoothly dropped one leg from where it lay propped on the table, sliding it underneath the table. "Two minutes," she bet, rubbing her foot against his and tracing it around his ankle.

"Mmm." Sand wiggled in his seat when she started touching him, her skin hot but pleasant on his. "I will see your 2 minutes and raise you...a back rub." They were running out of minutes and at this rate she would probably end up winning all his minutes. Which he had to admit, he didn't really mind. She looked more miserable in the heat. He raised an eyebrow at her. "You still have time to fold the hand, my dear."

She continued stroking the top of his foot with hers, looking at him archly. "A backrub, is it? An expensive bet..." She did have a pair, but...he seemed rather sure of himself. They were at a three minute bet; although she'd won two so it wouldn't be going back too far.

Yet.

"All right, Bodaes," she said tartly, "I fold." She threw her cards down in disgust. "But I want to see what you had that made you so smug, you viper." She gestured at his cards.

Sand laughed, pleased. "Oh I don't think so, Helkaer." He placed his hand firmly on top of his cards. "Giving you Luskans information...why, I might as well just let you win the game." He stuck the cards into the middle of the deck and shuffled it twice before handing her the pile. "I've taken the liberty of helping you with your temptation to peak. It's how much I truly care for you, dear girl. But..." he added with an afterthought "...I can show you what has me so smug." He closed his eyes, bringing up the memory of her crying out his name as she climaxed...

Torio literally felt her body tighten in an echo of the memory and her fingers momentarily dug into the table. She pressed her mouth into a tight line, her eyes glittering dangerously. "My temptation to merely peek is not what you should be worried about, Sand," she said in a clipped voice; her use of his name slipped from her mouth almost in sync with his memory of her crying out, and she felt her skin flushing as she snapped two cards from the top of the deck and slapped them down in front of him. She drew two for herself; the four of spades and the two of...of hearts...

She looked down at her cards; one eyebrow rose and she glanced up at him, sending him an image of his face...his elegant fierce face and his expression from her viewpoint when he had climaxed in the bathtub underneath her.

"Your bet," she said, in a deceptively sweet voice.

Sand inhaled sharply, her memory resonating through him. For a brief moment, he was back in the tub, under her and at the table in front of her, clutching two cards at the same time. He felt his sleeping member give a stir of interest. "It appears, dear girl, we are currently playing two games." He looked at his cards, being careful to shield his thoughts. 3 of clubs, 3 of spades. He immediately said, "5 minutes."

Torio let out a low whistle...she was down a minute already. And a backrub. "Sure of yourself, are we, Bodaes?" She eyed him shrewdly; it was early, early in the hand, and she had absolutely nothing. She dropped her other leg from the table, leaning forward onto her elbows and letting the loose collar of her tunic slip off of one shoulder. "We shall see. I'll meet your five minutes."

She felt a ridiculous rush of nervous adrenaline as she reached for another pair of cards and tossed them to Sand, pulling two more towards herself...it's just minutes, it's not even a real game...but she held her poise, her mouth curled slyly as she looked at her new cards. The three of cups and the four of diamonds.

She let out an inward sigh of relief. It was something, at least, a pair of fours. She tapped the tops of her cards against her exposed collarbone, smiling at him coyly. "Well? What do you bet, oh dangerously confident one?"

Sand found his eyes following her cards, to her exposed skin...

Stop that - you're falling right into her trap!

He dropped his eyes onto his cards. 4 of cups, 4 of hearts. It took all his will power not to burst out laughing at his good luck. He grinned at her, craftily. "An ear rub before bed, dear girl. You know how much I love those. I wouldn't want to rob you of all your fresh air time. If I lose - what would you like in return?"

Her mouth quirked slightly as he threw an ear rub out onto the table. She might have to indulge him anyway, even if he lost... "All right, I suppose that's acceptable. As for me..." She thought for a minute, tapping her feet against the floor...

Her feet. They were always pinched into heeled slippers that...while not completely uncomfortable, did not make for cushioned walking. And the last day she had gone barefoot inside the safehouse, her only alternative being the kneed boots that went with her "costume." She wiggled her toes appreciatively against the floorboards as she answered, "I think a foot rub might be in order, wizard. We must put those capable fingers of yours to good use. I'll meet your bet with that." She reached down and lifted her last card...the three of diamonds.

She waited until Sand picked his up and examined it, feeling a trill of excitement. She might actually win this thing...Two pairs…

"Agreed then, dear girl." He slid the last card over to him. "Best be getting your hands ready. I've so dreadfully missed having Elven ears..." He looked. 5 of clubs. That gave him 2 pairs - 3s and 4s. He sat back in his chair and studied her across from him. She seemed very confident, very relaxed with her bet. He needed to push her out of the hand, make her fold...

"I'll bet first dibs on the bathwater in the morning AND you have to heat it and fill it up for me."

Her eyebrows went up. "I'll call that bet. And I'll raise you...not only will you have to prepare my bath, but I think you can wash my skin and hair for me, as well." She tapped her fingers against the table as she said, casually, "Will you call me? I understand if it's too much for you, Bodaes...no hard feelings if you have to drop out." Uncharacteristically, she winked at him.

Sand laughed, short and sharp. "Oh I will call you, Ambassador. It would be my pleasure to - in fact, I will raise you - " He looked around. What else could he bet? Rodent-chewed towels? Hardened biscuits? Wine that had gone bad? He looked down a moment...

"...I will raise you me."

She narrowed her eyes at him. Definitely confident. Or bored into desperation. "All right," She said, after a long, quiet moment. "I'll call you." She turned her cards over, and displayed them on the table. "Show me."

Sand flipped his cards over and then eyed hers. Pair of 4s and a pair of 3s. But her remaining card was a 2 whereas his was a 5. "It would seem, dear girl, that Tymora has favored me today. It will be satisfying to collect." He grinned widely at her, his blue eyes bright. "So what does winning you entail? Will I be allowed to ask you to make me a sandwich?"

"Now...wait! Just a minute, you slick little snake..." She stabbed her finger down on the two of hearts from where it lay on the table. "We never established cards outside of the trick counted for anything." She leaned back in her chair, tossing her head indignantly, her hair flicking out of her eyes. "We're tied, as far as I'm concerned."

She examined the nails of her hand; they'd become shortened over the last week, their ends chipping and breaking off until she had been reduced to trimming them off completely, so the action was more habit than real concern over the state of the ends of her fingers. "As for a sandwich...as long as you're not too worried about what might end up inside of it..."

Sand snorted. "Where did you learn how to play? Cards outside the trick always count. The kicker, as we called them. Don't weasel your way out of paying up for this loss - you can't avoid the consequences for losing all the time." He watched her a moment, and then said irritably, "And really, girl, for all the threats on my life I've never seen you make one serious effort."

She half-stood, her eyes blazing. "Please! The 'kickers' aren't even mentioned in the original rules, and you certainly didn't set a precedent before we started playing. Trying to win on insignificant technicalities again, Sand?" She pressed her hands against the table, leaning forward, her voice tinged with irate anger. "By all means, if you'd like a serious effort on your life, let me know. I'll give it my best, just for you."

He half-stood as well. "I'm not the one that called trial by combat, Luskan." He hissed the last word out. "We won fairly and you had to throw them into the arena with that monster, Lorne." His fingernails dug into the table when he remembered the horror of watching Meaghan go up against the brute nearly twice her size and weight. "Tell me, Torio, how long is that body trail behind you?"

His eyes narrowed. "And I'll call your bluff, dear girl. You wouldn't kill me - I don't even think you could hurt me with your best efforts." He took a step towards her.

Torio's face flinched almost imperceptibly before becoming harder than stone, her eyes furiously cold. She pushed her chair back, hearing it topple backwards and clatter to the floor behind her as she straightened all the way. "Maybe Meaghan Farlong needed to go up against a true brute for once; learn what it's like in the real Faerun, and not in the back country swamps of the Mere where lizardmen roll over onto their backs for you with a few kind words! You call them heroes, Sand? They can barely hold themselves together, and they're supposed to save us all!" She laughed, short, sharp, clear. "I won't have to attempt anything on your person, Sand...your foolhardy 'leaders' will accomplish it all for me, and you'll simply trail along behind them." She slapped at the pile of cards, sending them scattering over the edge of the table, fluttering to the floor as she turned and began pacing.

She had a temper, when he could crack it. And he had to admit, she had a way of making him lose his - she knew which buttons to push, which levers to pull - how to mar his glossy exterior. Damn her. He snarled, "Meaghan Farlong - all of them - have fought countless lizardmen, githyanki, undead, orcs, demons, thieves, bandits and heavens know what other kinds of abominations to get to where they are now." He ticked the list off on his fingers. "They have earned their title of heroes."

"And yes, I will admit they act like petty children at times. I will also admit their mental faculties occasionally leave something to be desired. And yes, their hygiene and dietary habits can be questionable - but - if it wasn't for them, who would fight, Torio? Who would fight to save your life? They - we - have been charged with this suicidal mission. Don't think I don't know that, dear girl." He yanked the amulet containing the ariik gem off his neck. For some reason her words hurt him deeply and that only made him angrier.

"You don't have the courage to kill me with your own hands. You rely on circumstances to do it for you, don't you? Twisting the political ropes until a person hangs themselves?" He put the gem down on the table. "You gave me this so I could return to you. If you don't want me back - then you can have it back, and your goal to kill me will be accomplished with no blood on your hands." He went to stomp out the front door, realized he couldn't, and so turned and entered the storage room instead. Petty children!

She stopped pacing when the storage room door slammed shut. Cards scattered at her feet; a hot, infuriated buzzing filled her head. The locket gleamed on the table, glaringly bright against the other odds and ends scattered around it.

Silence hung thick around her. She stepped forward, once, and then again. She stood at the table, her fingers lightly touching the edge.

He'd taken it off.

She touched the chain, tracing its path against the wood. The locket buzzed at her, angry at her closeness, even with the gem protected and encased in metal. Not allowed. She coiled the chain around her finger. Not allowed to touch.

Torio sank into the chair, feeling suddenly sick. He had a compelling voice; passion or sarcasm or boredom or amusement or anger, it slithered under her skin unlike anything she'd experienced in her life. He threw her vileness, her ruthlessness, her cruelty into her face and for the first time in her life it had cut her open as quickly as any knife.

She turned abruptly from the table and moved to the bed, sinking down onto it. She sighed sinking into it; her throat felt tight, her eyes stung...but Torio Claven does not weep. She reached for the second pillow and faced the wall, shutting her eyes.

The storage room was small and its claustrophobic size seemed to pressed down around him, the room being unbearable stuffy and hot. But better to be in this room alone than out there with her.

It seemed to Sand that the entire world was shrinking. It went from Neverwinter, to the Keep, to the safehouse and now the storage room. The only thing smaller and which he was certain he was headed towards was a coffin.

That is, if he would be so lucky to have a coffin and not just be another random body on a battlefield...

He pulled a bottle of wine down from the shelf. He had seen that ranger, Bishop, wallowing himself in alcohol on numerous occasions. He might as well try out the technique while he was joined with such maudlin thoughts. He drained a good quarter of the bottle on the first swig and sat down, leaning against the wall.

Gods! How would he be able to live with such a woman? And to think he had just started making long terms plans in his mind with her...

She was maddening. Completely maddening. She challenged everything that was done, had little or no faith in anything or anyone, always seemed to take any situation to her advantage...

But it was coupled with a determination, an ambition, a passion and a drive that drew him to her the way he was drawn to a good book. A good book with an Explosive Rune spell on it, it seemed. She seemed to know (and was quite willing to abuse) her effect on him and at the same time, seemed completely oblivious to it.

Sand finished the bottle of very bad wine a lot quicker than he intended. He put the bottle down and then lay back on the bedroll that was still in here. His pillow was still on her bed and gods be damned if he would go out and get it. He stared up at the ceiling, listening to the dripping of water from somewhere.

But there was no denying that he loved her.