Sublime

I peek through my fingers at Layla. She’s smiling a smug little grin. She looks like she should be wearing a monocle and stroking a hairless cat Bond-style. Why I ever thought she was all sweetness is beyond me. She’s a spicy little thing. “Ask Luka.”

“She’d better be good,” Beatrix said, pulling a grunting black-and-white guinea pig from her pocket and snuggling it under her chin. “We have a lot to overcome. Don’t we, Mr. Nibbles?”