"Fifty percent," Lune echoed. "You're becoming an optimist."

Another joke, but she supposed Gustave really had been one, once. There had been so much hope pinned on his lumina converter, and the idea that he would get to pass his journal to his apprentices.

Lune was sparing Gustave glances as they walked. His arm. Like one of these times, she would see something different.

"You'll be fine if we do find a fight?" Reasonable question, considering.