Honestly, Margo couldn’t find it within herself to stop being worried, but Eliot was a little bit of a comfort for her. She smiled a tight-lipped smile and nodded, agreeing that getting out of the cold was a good idea and getting drinks was even better. Her arm slipped around his waist with ease, like it belonged there.

“Here’s hoping this place has better booze than Fillory.” Margo smirked. It was a joke, but a sincere prayer of sorts. In all of the time that she’d spent away from home in Castle Whitespire she hadn’t had a single decent alcoholic beverage save for the drinks she’d taken from Eliot’s flask.

“So…” She turned her head and looked up at Eliot. “How long have you been here? Because I’m getting the feeling it’s been longer than I think.”