[He’s turning red behind his hand. Yeah, it’s mortifying, but it’s also—

Well, part of him isn’t entirely unhappy, either. How could it be, when girls are always soft and smell nice, and it’s good just to be close to one, whatever the circumstance? No, focus. It’s Scuti, she’d rather be doing anything else.]

Uh, I don’t think my ribs can take an over-the-shoulder carry, so… [The suggestion feels ridiculous on his tongue, tripping out awkwardly.] …h—how about piggyback? Then I’m holding on, too.