"I should be horrified that the one thing you gleaned from your years on Drearburh was that we liked skulls, but considering it's you, it's barely a surprise." Harrow stays still as Gideon changes position, her hands wrapped stiffly around her mug as she raises it to her lips and takes a sip. It takes her a minute, maybe two, before she shifts another half-inch, leaning towards the warm and inviting stretch of Gideon's side.

"She does like skulls, though," she says. "I will give you that."