* * *
Back at the rooms, Brennan had returned, looking entirely unkempt. Most of his clothes were draped over a chair instead of on his person, a sure sign he’d had to make a quick exit from somewhere. Apparently, he wasn’t in any great danger, though, because he’d stopped for breakfast. French rolls, cheese and a block of rich creamy butter were laid out on the dining table.
‘Just getting in?’ Brennan said around a mouthful of bread. He motioned to an empty chair. ‘I’ll have Guillaume bring coffee.’
Haviland gave a tired smile, the night catching up with him at last. ‘Thank you, but I think I’ll go to bed.’
Brennan winked. ‘I’ve already been there tonight, twice in fact.’
‘You can tell me about it later.’ Haviland tried to laugh, but it came out as a yawn. He didn’t know how Brennan did it; up all night, every night, and always cheerful as if his personal life didn’t teeter on the edge of disaster.
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