“What a delicious topic of discussion,” Miss Plusier said, clasping her hands together with a serene expression. “I must know, have you heard from them? Have they mentioned me?”If Mask were to contact him, it was highly likely the message passed along would be nonsensical. They had a penchant for screwing with people, and Cal wasn’t excluded from that group.“Haven’t heard a peep,” he admitted freely, ignoring the daggers Olivia was staring into his back. “Tough to get news from that side of the river.”But far from impossible for someone like Mask. Mind magic and the ability to seemingly alter their body at will made hopping the border simple. They could even go a step further and subvert someone to deliver the message in their stead.“More’s the pity,” she responded despondently, before perking right up again. “What to say then? I wonder. I could go for days on end, but I fear your companion there lacks the patience for it.”Miss Plusier continued her work on the blazer, cutting and sewing lines as easily as breathing. The practiced ease and delight the woman showed in her work were at odds with the image of an assassin, and he decided to start there.“Why not start with how you two met?” Cal asked, attempting to convey his nonchalance. “That’s got to be a story.”Any situation involving Mask was a story. It was an intrinsic part of their character. Mask had once regaled him with the tale of their quest to get a parking permit, because apparently they drove, and it ended with them setting a hattery on fire. The crazy part was that it made logical sense, and that was after Cal purged Mask’s influence from his system. (...)