[It's not that she genuinely feared she would be judged; Iris knows Cain too well for that, too. But she relaxes perceptibly as she hides her face in the hollow of his throat.]

Not on purpose. Mary found one of my earrings on the back seat of the sleigh and jumped to conclusions. By the time I looked 'im up again a while later - Panda'd gone missing and the only clue I 'ad were a lot of suspiciously hi-tech talking panda toys - she'd thrown 'im out.

[She says nothing of regret, and there's none in her voice. If she were telling this story to anyone else, she'd be laughing, and the laughter's still there in the edges of her voice, in the twitch of her mouth against his skin.

The regret is deeper, a faded bonebruise that speaks softly out of the sag of her shoulders, the grateful way she clings to him. It's there all right, but Iris, like Cain, is someone who learned the knack of not living in it a long time ago.]

I did get 'em back together, mind you. One indiscretion and one overreaction's not enough to chuck away a good thing over. Plus the little matter of 'ow she'd kidnapped my Panda and planted temporal bombs in every Christmas stocking in the galaxy. That woman could 'old grudges professionally, she could.