The deeper they got into London, the more crowded the train became. Conversation became dangerous, or at least, conversation regarding their mission, and really, the mission was their purpose, regardless of their flirting, or feelings, or whatever it was they were doing. Ian didn’t have a label for it. He was starting to believe he didn’t want one. Labels carried weight not everything could bear, and he wasn’t entirely sure he was willing to risk this newfound happiness—because he was happy, surprisingly, wonderfully, intensely so—by placing one upon it.
They got off at Holborn, pushing their ways against the crowds. Locals flocked to the trains to find their way home, while eager tourists streamed from behind to follow them to the surface. Everywhere they turned, Ian watched for anything
