“Why wasn’t I involved?”
“Were you at today’s afternoon tea?”
“Well, no?—”
“Then how could you be involved?”
“That’s not fair!”
“If you want to hear about Declan pissing in front of Aela?—”
“YOU TALK ABOUT THAT?!”
I smirked. “We talk about all kinds of stuff.”
“No way.”
“Yes way.”
“Nothing’s sacred?!” he sputtered in horror.
“Nope.”
“This sounds like a breach of my human rights.”
“Be grateful you’re not Aidan. We know more shit about his cock than I’m surehedoes. Though, not today. Vana was pouting.”
“Yeah, he’s been in a crappy mood all day too.”
“Anything I can help with?”
“Nah. I’m working on it.” He peered at my handiwork. “You sure that’s not a bomb?”
“I’m fucking sure. Jesus, Conor.” I flipped down my loops. “Fuck off if you’re going to ask irritating questions.”
“So… you’re making the popper?”
“Yes.”
“Can’t you just buy that stuff?”
“Where’d be the fun in that? Potassium nitrate?—”
“Gunpowder?!”
“Yep.” I pointed to the strips I was carefully dousing in my solution. “These detonate the explosive when you pull them apart and the rapid combustion makes the pop.”
“Sounds like a bomb to me.”
“It’s a miniature explosion. Don’t exaggerate.”
His lips pursed. “If you’re making these, then they won’t be so mini. I know you. You wouldn’t make them if you weren’t hoping for abang.”
“You’re half-right. I do want a bang, but I’m not going to have anyone lose their hands. Well, unless Aidan keeps on pissing off Savannah…”
“This sounds like a lot of work.”
“Nah. I like it. Good times—reminds me of chemistry and my boner for Mr. Wensley.”
