"Something worse than either," says Harrow, her voice momentarily as sepulchral and forbidding as she can make it. She smirks. "That sometimes, we're better off not knowing a thing."

Gideon reaches for her plate and Harrow picks it up, handing it to her. The plate is large enough, heavy enough, that their fingers don't touch--though she wishes, with embarrassing suddenness, that it had been otherwise. Her cheeks grow warm again, her brow furrowing just slightly at the offer. "What did you get for dessert?"