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He beams at me and says, “God, your mouth is going to get you inso muchtrouble with us and I amso herefor it."
My mouth in question is currently chewing through pancakes, so I only stare at him until I swallow. “So what do youwantfrom me, then? I’ll make a terrible drug mule. You know how bad that shit would interact with my medicine?”
“Ido,actually,” Ezra replies indulgently. “Arlo takes stuff too, remember? And we aren’t drug dealers.”
“Black marketeers?”
“No.”
“Crusaders?”
“This isn’t the Spanish Inquisition, Ari.”
“Pirates?”
Ezra rests his jaw on his hand, a smile twitching at his lips. “The sea kind, or the digital kind?”
I consider the question, then say, “Sea kind. The digital kind just sounds boring.”
“No to either one.”
I’m running out of stupid ideas, but I’m also unwilling to admit that. “Then you must be, uh–”
“Do you want me to save you another round of stupid guesses? It’s fun watching you squirm whenever you come close to saying something that’s a real possibility andfrightening, but I don’t mind cutting you off here.” He takes another bite of his waffles, waiting for me to reply.
“I’m so sorry you don’t enjoy twenty questions with me,” I sniff, my stomach twisting again and hating the idea of me eatingallof these pancakes on my plate. I’ll go for half, if that.
“Ilovetwenty questions with you,” Ezra argues. “But you’re going to run out of cute ideas, and then I’ll have to start reassuring you wearen’tsome of the things you might think we are.”
“So you aren’t hitmen?”
Ezra grimaces. “Okay, well, that hits a little close to home. I wasn’t expecting it so soon.”
“Oh my god, you’reactually–”
“We’re not cool enough to be considered hitmen. We don’t work for the mafia or anything like that.”
“The Chancellorsaren’tthe mafia?”
“No, but I havemeta guy that ran a mob once, thanks to Cyril’s uncle. That’s who owns the city, by the way. In case you hadn’t made the connection.”
I already had, but I don’t say that as I chase a cherry around my plate indecisively.
“Okay, well, I feel like it’s pertinent to tell you I’d make a prettyawfulhit lady,” I say with a sigh like I’m put out by it. “I’ve never killed anyone before. And I don’t really use weapons. You’ve insulted my knife skills, so I figure that’s obvious.”
I look at him for a response, but he only gestures at me to continue. “Go on,” he says, swallowing his bite of waffle. “I like hearing about your skills or lack of them. It’s kind of like a job interview.”
“Which is totally what I wanted to do at eight-thirty in the morning,” I mumble and let out a long breath. “My skills include book sorting, reading and remembering stuff, video games, excluding battle royale style ones. And horror movie trivia.”
“What’s your favorite scary movie?”
“Are you asking because you want to know or because you, like me, watched too muchScreamas a kid?” I ask, unable to help myself.
I’m rewarded with a surprisingly genuine grin. “Both,” he tells me. “I watchedwaytoo muchScreamwhen I was younger. And every other scary movie I could get my hands on.”
Same. I did as well, but I’m not sure it makes for a cute bonding moment between us here. “My favorite horror movieisScream,” I tell him with a shrug. “And those are about all of my marketable skills.”
“Well, I don’t think anyone’s going to have youkillanybody,” Ezra says after some consideration. “Seems dangerous, with the way you cuddle knives in bed. And I don’t think anyone wants to use you as a drug mule. As I said, we aren’t drug dealers. Oh, maybe you can be the shop’s receptionist. I bet Arlo would give you free tattoos if you did.”
