"We'll see." It's an easy, stray remark as he sets the sole of his shoe up against the edge of the coffee table. Ten months isn't that long, but it's long enough that he doesn't look or feel so alien in the sharp lines of a dress shirt and trousers. Not natural, not by a long shot, but not necessarily odd. --A hell of a lot less strange than the look of Frazer with her hair coming down, bare thighs and the sweater slumping around her shoulders anyway.

Charlie props the book up against his leg and flips it open. There are earmarked pages and notes in the margins in his own handwriting but he can't for the life of him recall the circumstances that he made them under. "Planning to lay about all day then, are you?"