“Ah,” Ravi said, stretching out his back, “we’re still titleless, are we, Lady Fitz-Amobi?”
“We are,” she said. “I’ve narrowed it down to three options.”
“Hit me,” he said.
“No, you’ll be mean about them.”
“No, I won’t,” he said earnestly, with the smallest of smiles.
“OK.” She looked down at her notes. “Option A is An Examination into a Miscarriage of Justice. Wha— Ravi, I can see you laughing.”
“That was a yawn, I swear.”
“Well, you won’t like option B either, because that’s A Study of a Closed Case: The Andie Bell— Ravi, stop!”
“Wha— I’m sorry, I can’t help it,” he said, laughing until his eyes were lined with tears. “It’s just…of all your many qualities, Pip, there’s one thing you lack—”
“Lack?” She spun her chair to face him. “I lack something?”