"We don't doubt it, princess." Looking at Edward, he smiled as he watched him adjust the tiara, loving how it looked on him. It was run, it was a rush. A weird, happy rush. Not a dark rush like a gun or a fight but the sort of energy he had once, in his past, when he was with Gilda or hanging with Bruce. The thrill of connecting and meaning something to someone again.

"You know, Harv has good tastes. The tiara is perfect." He raised his glass and nodded to Edward. "Here's to further endeavours."