“This is highly inappropriate,' I muttered.

His answering chuckle stroked my nerves in all the wrong- and right- ways. 'More inappropriate than you masquerading as a wholly different kind of maid at the Red Pearl?'

My jaw snapped shut so quickly and tightly, I was surprised I didn't crack a molar.

'Or more inappropriate than the night of the Rite, when you let me-'

'Shut up,' I hissed.

'I'm not done yet,' he said, his chest pressing against my back. 'What about sneaking off to fight the Craven on the Rise? Or that diary-?'

'I get your point, Hawke. Can you stop talking now?'

'You're the one who started this.'

'Actually, no, I did not.'

'What?' A low laugh left him. 'You said, and I quote, "this is wildly, grossly, irrefutably...'

'Did you just learn what an adverb is today? Because that is not what I said.'

Hawke sighed. 'Sorry.'

He didn't sound sorry about it at all.”