Lyra POV
“You can put your clothes in my backpack,” I tell him. “If you want.”
He grins insouciantly.
“And what if I say I just want to leave my clothes behind and go naked?”
He really thinks he can bother me like this, I can tell.
“I don’t give a damn what you do,” I tell him. “But when it’s windy or cold or raining and you’re balls out in it, don’t come crying to me because I don’t have a spare set of pants that will fit you.”
He rolls his eyes.
“Come here,” he says, stripping his shirt over his head.
I already have the backpack buckled around my torso, my shoulders slipped out of it, so I cross the room and turn my back to him. I feel a redistribution of weight as he packs his things into it.
I shimmy out of my own clothes and hand them back to him.
“Can you put these in
