As if you don't light up the night on your own. [His smile is wry, a look cast down into the dark where their hands are linked. Nothing but a blur and the sensation of warmth spreading far beyond his fingertips.]

Though what assumptions you make. You have no idea the things I keep hidden. [Prior's free hand plucks at the lapel of his coat with a flourish, as though muscles like Popeye's or an extra five inches in height might somehow be lurking beneath.] The scar, anyway. I can wear a cropped shirt and petrify enemies with my absence of an appendix - oh, wait.

[Breaking away, he ducks across to where he'd been waiting and retrieves a small paper bag.]

I came bearing gifts.