"I'm a very bad-tempered woman and that means I'm convalescent. Ask anybody."
"I'll go right out into the street and do that, darling."
She got out of bed and wrapped Oliver's dressing gown around her. "I'm hungry again," she said.
"He'll be back soon. You've left nothing but some frozen—worms, looks like. Shall I defrost them?"
"Please don't trouble. I can wait."
"Window!" he snapped.
She ducked back and swore again, this time at herself. "Sorry," she said. "Which will do us a whole hell of a lot of good if somebody saw me and started wondering."
Oliver came in with packages. Lee kissed him and he grinned shyly. "Trout," he whispered. She grabbed the packages and flew to the kitchenette.
"The way to Lee Falcaro's heart," Charles mused. "How's your throat, Ken?"
"No pain, today," Oliver whispered. "Latham says I can talk as much as I like. And I've got things to talk about." He opened his coat and hauled out a flat package that had been stuffed under his belt. "Stolen from the factory. Brushes, pens, tubes of ink, drawing instruments. My friends, you are going to return to Syndic Territory in style, with passes and permits galore."