Laurent exhaled slowly, the only outward sign given that Damen's remark had struck an unexpected target. 'Auguste used to ask the same of me,' he said, 'Whenever he found me at my books. It would seem I do not share either of your restless natures.'

His smile was sad, but not unbearably so. Some things between them, he expected, would always hurt. Laurent gave in to Damen's supposed critique and stretched his neck, his eyes finding the space beneath his front door as he did so. There was no reason for it. It was only a feeling, yet it was quite enough to put Laurent on alert. He had long ago learned to trust his instincts, and he had honed them well - there was nothing at all to see, and yet, something was wrong.

'You have not invited your - ' Laurent inhaled carefully, shaping his thoughts around Damen's guest without ever thinking his name, 'Friend, have you?'