Armani has never smelled anything quite like this before. The closest approximation is a whole chocolate factory — from the sugar and cocoa to the hot machine parts and engine grease. It reminds him, vaguely, of that kayaking trip, the pocket of shadow on the shores of Lake Peckenpaugh.

It's not wholly unpleasant, though it does burst across his senses a bit like a whiff of ground peppercorn. It's disorienting, just a little, like a sneeze he can't get out.