Hugo looked him up and down, and Wallace fidgeted uncomfortably. “You’re not so bad.” “Please, stop. You’re far too kind. I can’t stand it. How on earth are you still single with ammunition like that up your sleeve?” Hugo squinted at him. “You think that’s what I’d say?” Abort. Abort. Abort. “Uh. I don’t … know?” “Multitudes,” he said again as if that explained everything. He glanced at Hugo, relieved he was ignoring Wallace’s awkwardness. “Is that a good thing?” “I think so.”
