[ Bastien’s jaunty show-off smile slides into something more subdued, but it doesn’t disappear.

This isn’t what he expected, go-having or not. Alexandrie’s bare face and dressing gown, Byerly’s bare chest above the blankets of the bed he is still thoroughly in. It’s not bad—Bastien’s occasional shyness isn’t prudish, his bouts of jealous nerves never the sort that involve possessive hackle-rising over the thought of anyone seeing anyone else naked. It’s only different. A softer song than he’d been in position for.

And they’ve been having a go.

But he keeps smiling, in a more thoughtful way, and even does a little shoulder shimmy for Alexandrie’s song. ]

Oh, yes, my poor broken back.

[ He still has the tray lofted above his shoulder. He looks around for a table that might be dragged closer, but seeing nothing convenient, slides the tray down onto the bed before her.

He considers offering to leave and come back later, and he doesn’t decide he won’t. Only that he won’t yet. ]

My dreams were strange, too. Maybe someone broke something cursed in the basement again.