[ Within the hand sandwich, Bastien bends and rubs one knuckle up against By's finger. The one with his ring, to make it wiggle. ]

I'm,

[ ready? No. Not the way he likes to be ready, variables accounted for and head clear. But as ready as he's going to get. And there is still Nadine, far away in Gwaren—no quick jaunt, that—and a time approaching when Byerly will have to decide whether or not to stall, too. ]

Could you get away this week? We would have to come back before Monsieur L'Euilled Ouebbre's scribes arrive—we cannot miss them.