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In the kitchen, Holly and I sat on the floor, our backs pressed against the units, rapiers and ammunition close at hand.
"Hol," I said, "when you first came to the agency, I'm sorry I wasn't very... friendly. I know I could have been nicer to you."
"Oh, don't worry about that. We've talked about it before." She pushed her hair back from her face. "I'm sure I was an utter pain as well. Anyway, it must have been odd, having me show up."
"It was a bit, but—"
"But you needn't have worried." She smiled at me. "Funnily enough, Lockwood isn't actually my type."
In my embarrassment, I'm not quite sure what my expression was right then, but it was sufficient to make Holly laugh. "Don't look so shocked, Lucy," she said. "I know how you feel about him. But, if anything, I had my eye on someone else."
"Good gravy, you don't mean George?"
Holly laughed again; her eyes sparkled as she glanced at me sidelong. "You must know there are other possibilities in this world, Lucy. I may not be able to hear him speak like you do, but I feel we have a special sort of... connection. The way he floats around in that jar. The way he contorts his ectoplasm. And don't get me started on those cheekbones."
I stared at her incredulously. "Holly," I said slowly, my tone flat. "Hol. Speaking as a friend here, that's disgusting. Like, all kinds of levels of wrong." I glanced at the cabinet I'd shoved the skull into earlier, glad he couldn't hear this particular conversation.
This only made Holly laugh even louder. "You should see the look on your face right now! I'm joking. Just joking." She took a deep breath and reached up to wipe a tear of laughter from her eye. "Nah, it's Kipps I've got a thing for."
"Quill Kipps?" I wasn't sure whether to be relieved or even more grossed out by this revelation.
"What can I say?" Holly said with a small shrug. "I like redheads."