"I'm not saying we haven't done a whole fucking lot of cave diving, but I think I'd remember one of my friends disappearing," Beau says flatly.

(But he had, hadn't he? For a few hours. And then they'd found him in a seaweed cocoon, whole and slightly more able to throw a punch. Slightly.)

"Look, you want to help, right? You want me to trust you? Whatever you're dancing around, spit it out. It'll go a long way towards making that happen."