"Pierre!" I squealed and hugged him. "Look at you, Biker Boy. Figured you'd be more the cardigan-wearing type."

"Decriss!" he swore, swatting me away. "Like I'd wear that garbage." He patted the seat next to him. "Sit down, hotshot."

"'Otshot." I snickered.

We got a lot of strange looks in the next ten minutes, nattering away at each other in French, one or the other of us guffawing at the insults flying fast and furious. Pierre also demanded an update on Hybris. ...