Given that he was very occasionally hazarding a pinkie touch with Sisse, Lester probably ought to have been more cautious — but most of their caution was for Sisse, not for him. Most of his family had done so well at achieving respectable love-marriages that Lester didn't think his mother would really mind if he got in a bit of trouble — — but he was not in any position to try to offer stability to Sisse right now.

And it wasn't like they were up to anything chaotic back here, either.

He followed her into the tent, and stood on his toes at the low rumble he heard. "Lester Hatchitt," he offered back to her, even though she did not seem particularly interested in his name. He still ought to offer it. "I did — back there, I think." Lester pointed at a wall of crates that was hiding another walkable-row of the tent.