"I don't understand what we're doing," Aubrey said, shivering in the cold.
Ruthven smiled, bewitching in the moonlight as he looked around the barren street where they lurked. They'd left in the early afternoon to hunt, and now Aubrey badly wanted his supper, despite the meat pie he'd bought from a cart just a couple of hours ago.
"We're waiting."
"For what?" Aubrey said.
"Patience, Master," Ruthven said, smile fading away as he frowned. "This is delicate work."
Aubrey looked at him, exasperated. "What is delicate work? Standing? Freezing?"
Ruthven laughed briefly and held out one gloved hand. "Come here. I could use a taste, and you may take all of my warmth you like."
Grumbling half-hearted protests about bratty Pets, Aubrey took the offered hand and let Ruthven drag him close.
