Lunge couldn't decide what irritated him more- the fact that Wayne was potentially perfectly trustworthy and that he was possibly (god forbid) over-analysing the situation, or the fact that there was an equal chance of him being a better liar than he was. He had never been the competitive sort, that much was true, but the idea that the man had the potential to outwit him while he was still working out just where the two of them stood...

There was something curiously troubling about a roomful of adults offset by that faint yet unmistakable children's-play-house smell of poster paints and clay. Fortunately, it didn't take long to spot L, distinctive as he was, seated in the far corner. Provided his night had been as... eventful... as his own had been, they wouldn't be short on conversation.

He took a seat opposite, resting his elbows neatly between colourful sheets of paper and packets of glitter with his fingers bridged together. "Interesting night?" he asked casually, substituting the usual 'good' for something rather less redundant.