It will be a short-lived detente, but Aramis throws himself into it wholesale, pushing back his chair with a relieved exhale to stride to the cold box. "Indeed, we have much to celebrate," he says, pulling out a large, plastic box. "Les Inséparables separated no more. I think we may break into tonight's dessert early. Porthos, you have no objection, I'm sure."

Passing near him on his way for plates, Aramis looks at him, feeling cracked open and a little raw, but he is easier for the quick brush of their arms together. "Porthos has become a fine cook, Athos."

He settles a plate before Athos, feeling suddenly that it is less dessert than peace offering. "He could cook for the King himself, and no one could say it was not from the palace kitchens."