Page 65 of Summer L.A.W.

For a beat, she stared at him, then burst out laughing. It was genuine, rich, the kind of laugh that filled the whole space and knocked the last of the tension from the air.

And for the first time, he laughed too. Not politely, not under his breath— He really laughed, the sound surprising them both.

When it finally faded, Wally hopped up onto the table, pouch rustling, and settled neatly between them like a furry punctuation mark. His tail flicked lazily against Sebastian’s notebook.

Sebastian arched a brow. “Is he guarding your research?”

“Probably judging it,” Magda said. “He’s a terrible peer reviewer.”

Wally tilted his head and squeaked in mock offense.

Magda looked at the row of emptied flasks, at the faint traces of glitter still clinging to the glass. “You know, for all its chaos, that was one of the most successful days I’ve had in a long time.”

Sebastian cocked his head. “Define success.”

“No one died. Everyone told the truth. And I think you almost smiled before dessert.”

“I smiled,” he said defensively.

“You smirked.”

“That counts.”

She grinned again, softer now. “You’re not as bad at this as I thought.”

“Science?”

“Life.”

The candle had burned down another inch. The greenhouse hummed faintly, the mansion settled into its nocturnal rhythm. Outside, night insects trilled in the garden.

Sebastian gathered his notes into a tidy stack. “So, what comes next?”

Magda leaned over her own journal, smudged with fingerprints and faint traces of gold dust. She flipped to a clean page, uncapped her pen, and wrote neatly at the top: Potion #4 – Bonding Agent.

He raised an eyebrow. “That sounds ominous.”

She tapped the page. “It’s research, not romance. Probably.”

“Probably,” he echoed, unconvinced. “But I agree the potion needs a bonding agent to keep the results consistent.”

Wally lifted his head, eyes gleaming in the candlelight, and tilted it just enough to say what they were both thinking: What could possibly go wrong?

Saturday morning sunlight streamed through the greenhouse glass, catching on dewdrops and making the whole place feel like a cathedral of plants. Magda swept in carrying a tray of fresh herbs, muttering to them as if they were coworkers. Sebastian, meanwhile, had turned the opposite bench into a mobile laboratory. He had his microscope, laptop, precision scales, and rows of vials labeled with clinical professionalism.

“You set up fast,” Magda said, sliding her tray onto her side of the bench.

“Not quite ready,” he replied, adjusting a pH probe. “Your wallaby stole my timer.”

As if summoned, Wally bounced between them, pouch suspiciously lumpy. Sebastian narrowed his eyes. “Give it back.”

Wally blinked slowly, then produced a beaker instead, dropping it like a mic. Thankfully, Sebastian caught it. The timer was nowhere to be found.

Sebastian sighed. “He reminds me of my grad student assistant, Derek Hollis.”

“How so?”

“He’s impulsive, but sometimes I swear he’s trying to sabotage me.”