Hans laughed long and loud, dropping his forehead into his palm and shaking his head. “You hear that?” he called over the roar, voice lifting above the din. “This miracle of a man would get himself lost on the way to the privy — if I didn’t keep him on a leash!”
Jitka raised her brows, lips curling into a knowing smile as she looked straight at Henry.
He rolled his eyes but failed to hide the twitch of a grin. “Ay, sure — and who was it pulled your noble arse out of Maleshov, eh?”
“Details,” Hans waved a hand with exaggerated dignity, though the corners of his mouth betrayed him. “Entirely irrelevant details.”
Can’t help it — writing Devil’s Pack drinking nights is my favourite kind of chaos, and with Henry back in the mix it hits even harder :)
