Page 95 of Nobody Told Me Thrift Shops Sell Stolen Dragon Heirlooms

“Then I retract it.”

“Too late. I heard you.”

The song carried on behind her, ridiculous and cheerful. My mother would have found the whole thing absurd. She would have told me to stop standing near joy as if I needed written permission to approach it.

Quinn glanced toward the ballroom doors. “Come on. We can spare you the ‘Y.M.C.A’ and find Max some water.”

Max stood at the sound of his name, ready to escort us with more dignity than either of us deserved.

As we walked away from the music, Quinn’s shoulder brushed mine. She didn’t move away quickly, and neither did I.

The mission was complete for the night. By every reasonable standard, I should’ve been thinking about Friday’s meeting, the provenance packet, the sword that might finally come home.

I was thinking about all of that.

But I was also thinking that Quinn Bradley had a way of opening windows.

The ride back to Quinn’s apartment was quieter than the ride to the gala, but it wasn’t completely silent. Quinn wasn’t a silent person, even when she said nothing. She had a way of filling space: a glance out the window, a hand resting on Max’s head, a small shift of her mouth when her thoughts caught on something and didn’t yet become words. The city moved around us in bright fragments, storefronts sliding past the glass, late traffic easing block by block as we moved away from the hotel.

Max fell asleep within five minutes, stretched out on the floor of the car, content that he had completed his mission for the evening. His plum tie had slipped slightly to one side.

Quinn noticed me watching him. “He’s fine. Just basking in victory.”

“He looks exhausted.”

“Being universally admired is hard work.”

“Then he handled it well.”

“He always does.” She reached down to straighten the tie, then paused when I moved at the same time.

I stopped before touching him. “May I?”

For some reason, the question changed her face. Surprise first, then something warmer. Softer. People probably touched Max without asking. People probably thought his calmness made permission unnecessary.

Quinn nodded. “Yeah. He won’t mind.”

I adjusted the tie carefully, slipping the knot back to the center of his collar without waking him. Max heaved a sigh and settled deeper.

“He approves,” Quinn said.

“That’s reassuring.”

“Don’t let it go to your head. He also approves of deli turkey and the squeaky eggplant toy Avery got him as a joke, which she had to replace twice because he developed an emotional dependence.”

“I’ll keep my pride measured.”

Her smile came and stayed, tired around the edges. The adrenaline of the evening had begun to leave her. I could see it in the way she sank back against the seat. There was a faint shadow under her eyes that the hotel lighting had hidden.

“You should be pleased with yourself,” I said.

She turned her head toward me. “I suppose I am.”

“You were exceptional.”

Her fingers moved over the water bottle in her lap. “You already said that.”

“It remains true.”