“It's not,” Lanz adds, pressing his lips together. “That was all of our weapons, all of our gear. I don't think there's even anything left down in the...”
“We can figure that out,” Kai says, waving a hand. “It's just a matter of calling up the suppliers and putting in an order. It's not like they're going to do a credit check or anything.”
He digs his teeth into his lip, catching the lip ring, and puts his elbows on the table, leaning into his fists, looking over at Kingston—his brother or the closest thing he has to one. Then he lowers his hands.
“Why don't you get on that, King,” he says, his voice just a tiny bit softer. “Go to the salle, see if you can make some kind of list of what we're missing. Put your anal retentive qualities to good use.”
It's maybe the gentlest joke I've ever heard Kai make at Kingston's expense, but Kingston doesn't even laugh.
“Come on,” Kai says. “Stop pretending to eat and go make yourself useful.”
That gets Kingston's attention. He glares at Kai, deliberately forks up a chunk of ham and stuffs it in his mouth. Chews, swallows. It's as close to unrefined as I've ever seen his table manners.
“Fine,” he says.
He gets up and walks out.
“Well,” Morgan says, after a few long seconds. “This has been really wonderful catching up, but I think I'll excuse myself, too.”
“There's carrot cake,” Lanz says, almost like he's disappointed.
“Save me a piece,” Morgan says. “Unless you want some, Gwenna.”
I shake my head. “Not in the mood, but I will have some later,” I add, mostly for Lanz’s benefit.
“Can I steal her away, gents?” Morgan says.
The three of them exchange a look.
“She can do whatever she wants,” Cal says.
Morgan snaps her fingers and points at him. “Exactly.” She gestures for me. “If you would like to.” She flashes me a grin. “I got you a present on vacation.”
"Wow,”I say to Morgan, unfolding my gifts over my bed. “I don't know what to say."
I really don't. I'm not even sure what I'm looking at.
“You can thank me later,” Morgan says airily. “As soon as I saw them, I knew they were for you.”
“You did?" I say, cocking my head. “That's funny, because I don't even know what these are.”
"They'retwillies," Morgan says, as if that explains anything. When I continue to stare blankly, she sighs. "Silk scarves? For a pop of color." She gestures at the two long, narrow strips of silk—one a deep jewel-toned blue, the other a rich burgundy, both patterned with delicate gold geometric shapes. "They had all these tacky tropical prints, but I found these in the back and I thought,Gwenna. Classic. Elegant. A little moody."
"They're beautiful," I say, and I mean it. They really are. Soft and slippery-cool between my fingers.
"You can use them as a headband, or around your wrist like a sort of bangle, but mostly you just tie them on your handbag to…” She trails off. “Well, I guess next time I’ll get you a handbag, too.”
She sighs, packs the twillies delicately back up in the box, and sets it on my bedside table, one pop of color in the otherwise fairly stark room.
“They’re nice,” I say, because they are—they are, and she is, to think of me. “Really. Maybe I’ll…hang them on the wall. Make this place look like less of a prison cell.”
I haven't had much time to decorate my room in Camlann House. Besides the ridiculous amount of wardrobe accessories that Kingston bought me and the ball gowns from Kai, I don't even have that much on campus that wasn't reduced to ash. I feel a sudden pang of a missed experience—buying posters, setting up a whiteboard on my door for people to write notes when I'm out at class, a shower caddy, a reading corner where I would study for exams, page through textbooks, crumple paper from my notebook and aim for the wastebasket across the room to kill time. College things, normal things.
A gust of wind rattling the windowpane brings me back to attention. Morgan is clambering into bed with me, where she sits cross-legged and peers into my eyes.
“How are you?” she asks, her voice more serious now. “Really?”
“I'm...” I trail off. I don't want to think about the question. Or the answer.
