"Yes, we're madly in love," Eugene deadpanned, fighting snark with snark. "There was even a love song. And I'm not staring." To prove the point, he stopped staring. For a while.

If his new brunch buddy was expecting him to be impressed by this pronouncement, he was going to be disappointed. Eugene, as a marginally good citizen of Corona (there was still that price on his head to worry about), had never heard of vikings.

"Gesundheit," he said instead. That wasn't a name; it was a random collection of syllables! "I'm a thief."