“If I didn’t know any better, Wadsworth, my dear,” Thomas said, voice laced with teasing, his typical method of distracting me from my darkness, “I’d believe you were about to perform your own escape act. Am I to be your assistant, then?” He stared down at himself, frowning slightly. “I left my sequined dragon frock coat in London and this one’s a bit plain. It doesn’t particularly scream ’carnival chic.”
