( Ah, the long-assailing, unyielding arrogance of youth. Would that Lan Wangji did not so intimately recall it. He sees it now, writ large in clean brush strokes on Luffy's guileless face, the earnest enthusiasm of his gestures.

Barely arrived, yet uncontainable. Living fire. He would laugh, if the gaggle of senators they pass by were not so impossibly, blatantly excused of their senses, chasing each way pastries and wine and Wen Kexing's finest girls. At least their vices benefit their purpose, on this occasion. May the Heavens watch over Ephes, should this be their political echelon.

He walks on, taking Luffy beside him for a few steps, careful not skid over slips of wine and glistened, pale powers. )

A shi. ( No. The different metric, one of the many verbal compromises of negotiating meaning with his peers in the party. ) Two hours.

( And why such conviction that all will be well, then? ) Wen Qing's opiates should take hold, by that time.

( A nicely sedated flock will cooperate better with captivity. )