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    Summary


    I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
    or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
    I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
    in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
    -- Pablo Neruda Sonnet XVII


    Clint shrugged. Talking about things wasn't always his strong suit. "You have skills I don't. You see angles I don't. We work better together than I think either of us do alone. If you would rather work alone, obviously you could."

    The idea of working alone, or worse, with someone else, set off little sparks of panic in Nat's chest. She contained the reaction with concerted effort and kept her voice level when she replied, "I've found working with a partner makes what I do far easier. There were too many variables to track when I worked alone. As long as you're content with the arrangement I have no objection." She looked at him. "If it isn't broke, don't fix it, yes?"

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