[Is Harrow truly capable of asking Gideon Nav nicely for anything? Ask yourself this. She asks it of herself, as fingers teeter on the edge of letting her have her mouth back. Her dumb traitor brain feels all glowy from the praise and the kissing.

[A part of her still wants to be stubborn. Defiant. Prickly. But she wants. She wants so powerfully it thrums through her like a resonant note. She nods, very slightly.]