"Nor is it a yes, though it is gratifying to see you have some grasp of the nuances of conversation, Griddle."

Harrow's nerve endings fire at the rough scrape of Gideon's nail over her skin, even though the scratch is barely there, barely enough to hurt at all. She shivers a little, letting the low, tight feeling in her gut settle--but not subside. Gideon's face grows softer, slacker, as she drifts, and Harrow's struck by the beauty of it; she knows what a sleeping Gideon looks like, knows the slowing of her breath as she hovers at the edge of full consciousness, but this feels different.

"Do you want to stay, or should we go?" she asks, almost regretting the way it breaks the spell of the last few minutes.