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“And how’d you get Sylvia’s contact information?” Oscar demanded.
Lancelot stepped up. “I’m good at what I do. My friend wanted to stop and say ‘hi’ to his former student. Not hard to find.”
“It should have been,” Oscar said. “I made sure of it. She has millions of followers. I don’t want some weirdos tracking her down.” It was more than clear that they were the weirdos. “What did you use to find her?” he demanded.
Lancelot raised a brow. “You tell me what programs you use, and I’ll tell you mine.”
“Not likely. I write my own software.”
Lancelot shrugged and glanced around the ultra-high-tech workspace. “That’s fine if you don’t want to share. What kind of system are you using?”
Oscar didn’t take the bait. “Who did you say you worked for?”
“I didn’t say.”
“Well, now I’m asking. Who do you work for?”
“The London branch of Cohortes Praetorianae. Your sister seems to think you hacked into somewhere.”
“I think we both know I’m not confessing to that.” Oscar adjusted his glasses, and then folded his arms. “Proprietary tech.”
“Oscar. Everyone is not the enemy. They’re my friends and they’re here on a social visit,” Sylvia said, still looking at the screen. “What’s the name of that encrypted texting program you showed me?” she asked. “I bet Lancelot would love to see that.”
“I bet he would,” Oscar replied sarcastically. He briefly looked at his sister, but then quickly switched his attention back to them.
“Who do you work for?” Lancelot asked her brother.
“I work for myself.”
Lancelot snorted, and Hugo was impressed with how unruffled the knight was. Oscar was definitely trying to push his buttons. “Skills like that, I would have thought the CIA would’ve snapped you up.”
“I know how to stay off their radar. Or at least make sure they don’t get enough leverage on me to force me to work for the Company. Sylvia, get off my freaking computer!”
“Fine, fine. I’ll come back and get the information some other time.” She stood. “See you later, big brother. Please eat the soup, then go outside today. Get some fresh air.”
“What information? They’re not staying with you, are they?” he demanded in outrage. “They have a hotel, right?”
“None of your business.” Sylvia was a pretty good button pusher herself.
When Sylvia walked out, Hugo scampered to follow her. They kept going until they were out on the porch. The instant Lancelot stepped out, he scooped up the pipe he’d leaned against the doorjamb. Hugo cleared his throat, drawing Sylvia’s attention. “That was…interesting,” he said loudly. Lancelot winged the pipe out over the porch rail, where it landed in soft grass, a moment before Oscar stepped out, blinking owlishly behind his glasses.
“Sylvia, I don’t trust these guys.”
“Oscar, calm down. They aren’t strangers. Dr. Marchand was one of my favorite teachers at Northwestern. Visiting old friends is a pretty common thing with regular people. Not that I would expect you to understand that. Now, please take two more of those pills before bed.”
Oscar scowled.
Sylvia smiled slowly. The expression took its time, transforming her whole face. It was not a happy smile, but more a wolfish grin.
Oscar blinked and turned a tad green. “It’s never good when you smile like that.”
“I’m telling Mama you didn’t even offer us some tea.”
“Shit.”
“And cursed in front of a lady.”
Oscar groaned. “You’re not a lady.”
