“I might be misremembering that.”
“I don’t think there’s a way to misremember!”
“In her defense, she didn’t know I couldn’t breathe underwater. The first time, anyway.”
“That,” Nico said, aghast, “is not a defense!”
Gideon, though, was laughing.
“You know, Max is perfectly unbothered by all of this,” he said. “You should consider doing what he does.”
“What, dragging my ass across the carpet?”
“No, and he’s stopped doing that,” Gideon said. “Thankfully.”
“Gideon, I just want you to be okay,” Nico told him pleadingly. “Por favor. Je t’en supplie.”
“I am, Nico. Worrying about me is just your excuse to avoid your own life—which, by the way, I know nothing about,” Gideon pointedly reminded him. “Are you planning to tell me anything, or am I just always going to be your princess in the tower?”
“You’d make a terrible princess, first of all,” Nico muttered. “You haven’t the figure for a corset at all, and as for the rest, believe me, I would if I could—”
“But you can’t,” Gideon preemptively supplied, and grimaced. He glanced away before looking back, adding, “You know, I do worry about you, too. Your vanity aside, I do think you have plenty of problems without fixating on mine.”
“Like what?” Nico scoffed, emphatically gesturing to his full head of hair.
“I… never mind.” Gideon shrugged. “I’m just saying, this is a two-way street.”
“Well, I know that, don’t I? I would never devote myself so magnanimously to someone who failed to notice how interesting I am.”
“And you are very devoted.”
“As devoted as I am interesting,” Nico confirmed, “so you see how we’ve reached a détente.”
Gideon gave him a look like he’d swat him on the nose with a newspaper.
So, the usual.
“Estás bien
?” Gideon asked.
Yes, strangely, Nico was doing quite well indeed. He and Libby were very nearly getting on, arguing only about academic things (“It’s one thing to stop time and another to try to move it around” was his take on the subject of her latest theory, but of course she’d had Arguments) and he and Reina were doing fine, and in general Nico ate well and didn’t want to murder the people around him. (He could do without Callum and Tristan, but he’d suffered more distressing opposition before.)
Sure, he missed normal things, like the freedom to go places that weren’t this house and also, sex—but he had a feeling it was best that he didn’t sleep with anyone here. He’d probably let Parisa do whatever she wanted to him, and that was just not a good look for anyone.
“Je vais bien,” Nico said conclusively.
“Good,” said Gideon. “Then I’ll let you get back to sleep.”
“What, already?” Nico said, frowning. “But—”
Gideon snapped his fingers and Nico sat up in bed, gasping. He was back in his body, back in the Society’s manor house. Back in the place he’d never technically left.
Beside him, his phone buzzed.
Go to sleep.
Nico rolled his eyes. Dumbass.