“You know what I miss? More than anything? Coffee. I ask you, would it be so unthinkable to have something to wash down the gruel and turnips?” “We didn’t think it would be quite so rigid here,” Fulvia explains to us as she massages Plutarch’s shoulders. “Not in the higher ranks.” “Or at least there’d be the option of a little side action,” says Plutarch. “I mean, even Twelve had a black market, right?” “Yeah, the Hob,” says Gale. “It’s where we traded.” “There, you see? And look how moral you two are! Virtually incorruptible.” Plutarch sighs. “Oh, well, wars don’t last forever. So, glad to
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