Note: And here we are at the big 5-0! A huge and heartfelt thank you to everyone who's ever reviewed – you're the reason I've kept going. :)

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"This story's not bad," Deryn says, looking up from the newspaper. The paper's been on a proper journey, according to Alek: first to Captain Hobbes, then Dr. Barlow, then Count Volger, and now the two of them. And it went all the way from New York City to London, before that. At this rate it'll get around the world in no time.

"It makes the Germans sound pure dead evil," she continues, "and it doesn't seem like you knew anything about the Committee or the Tesla cannon at all. And now half the world'll think you're still in Istanbul."

"Not the half that matters," Alek says. He doesn't seem nearly as pleased about Eddie Malone's story as he ought to be. "The Germans will know - or suspect, at least - that I've stayed with you."

She puts her attention on the paper again, trying to hide the little glow in her heart. Of course he didn't mean you as in her; he meant you as in the crew of the Leviathan, or Darwinists in general. But try telling that to her daft body.

"The photograph came out nice," she says, holding up the paper a bit higher so the light hits it better. She remembers Malone posing Alek, wanting him to look both like a fugitive and a prince all at once. She'd like to give it a try herself, sketch him as properly Alek and not as a character in some barking story - but that's a request she doesn't dare make.

He takes the paper from her, frowning at the photo. "I've never had one taken before. Have you?"

"Aye, they did me when I joined up." And it had come out looking like Dylan, not Deryn, for which she was very grateful.

Alek's still unhappy about something. "Dylan..." he says slowly, hesitating, fidgeting with the newspaper. Finally, he says it: "Are my ears really that large?"

She laughs. "That's what's got your knickers in a twist? No, you ninny, your ears are fine."

He makes a hmph noise, but she's dead serious. She's a bit biased, true. Still, right this moment, she can't think of anyone who has nicer ears.

"I find photography very disagreeable," he says, folding the paper so that the photo is hidden.

She feels almost exactly the same (a camera's no substitute for a real artist); tweaking his nose, however, is much better fun. "Well, you'd better get used to it, your archdukeness, because everyone's going to want your picture. Especially if – well, you know."

He frowns some more. "I know. Perhaps I can ban photographers from all my public appearances."

"Aye, good luck with that," she says, rolling her eyes and remembering pushy, sneaky Eddie Malone. "You'd do better just to stay inside your barking castle all day."

"I suppose I could do that," he says thoughtfully. For a moment she's almost fooled - and then she sees the corner of his mouth twitch into a smile before he swiftly resumes a serious expression.

"Or you could put a bag over your head. Wear it everywhere," she suggests, keeping down her own smile. Alek in a playful mood is even more adorable than usual, but now's no time for goggling.

He pretends to mull that over. Then he nods, decisive-like, sticks out his hand, and says, "I believe that will work excellently. Thank you, Dylan, for your ingenious solution."

"Oh, aye, anytime," she says, and they shake on it.