She's not even sure how Uriah entered this mix, but sure. She makes like she's fondly resting her chin on her twin's shoulder, but it's to follow his eyes. There's Laszlo, all right. Plucking a feather out of Tybalt Zettler's dumb hair. She scoffs, light. "Poison's too good for him. He's not the murder you're going to jail for, darling."

But the next idea is an interesting one. An absent-minded kiss to his cheek, she stands up straight, wheels turning behind her eyes. "And Uriah would leave him alone. Eventually. Hmm."