"She let me touch her, Lorcan!" exclaimed Lysander.
His twin looked up at him with a horrified expression. "You're gloating?" he asked.
"Wait, no, I didn't mean it in that way. I meant that she let me hold her hand."
Lorcan let out a sigh of relief. "And here I thought my brother had finally gotten into some girl's knickers.
Lysander scoffed and sat on Lorcan's bed. "She's not some girl and I'm not you, Lorcan. I have some common, human decency."
"Ouch. I felt that right here," said Lorcan as he placed his hand over his heart.
"I'm sure. Anyway, moving away from my brother's sex life, Agnes let me hold her hand, and she talked significantly more. I don't even think she talks that much with Apollo."
Lorcan raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Now what does Apollo have to do with this?"
Lysander glared at Lorcan. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing."
Lorcan leaned over his brother - a little too close. "You know Apollo is the great-grandson of Achilles Tolliver? The man who was our great-grandmother's ex-boyfriend - before she dated and married and shagged - "
Lysander smacked his brother's head away. "I get it, Lorcan, get on with it."
"I'm just saying. If in the past, it happened with the Newt Scamander's wife, then why wouldn't fate make it so that Tolliver's great-grandson be the one to steal your girl away from you, oh-Scamander-blood."
Lysander pursed his lips. "There's no such thing as fate."
"Oh - buddy, I wouldn't be too sure of that. Fate has a way of getting what it wants, and if you insult it, you're as good as done."
Lysander bit the inside of his cheek. "I won't let it happen - if it should happen - which it won't," said Lysander as he shot a pointed glance at Lorcan who whistled innocently.