Monty had to be enjoying himself, if that was how he was smiling – Ishmael suppressed his own smile in answer but he felt the fondness blossom internally, all the same.

Maybe he was drunk tonight, judging by that next suggestion. Ishmael felt clear-headed, even surrounded by so many intoxicated pulses in a few warm rooms, even with all his interactions with humans – but on the whole he was trying to make up for his recent lapse, careful not to make another grand mistake too soon. But, mostly sensible as he was committed to being, he couldn’t resist indulging Monty, even at the risk of causing a stir.

“No reason why we can’t,” Ishmael returned, partly playful but wholly surprised that Monty was thinking about them right now, instead of other schemes. Pleasantly surprised, of course. And it was a little bold a statement to make in the middle of society, masked or not, but he wasn’t going to turn it down. He laced his fingers discreetly between Monty’s. “Come through to the next room.” It had been emptier than this one, a conservatory with open doors onto the gardens – and they would still be able to hear the music well enough.

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