“How did you find all this information?” I ask, still wary it’s all an illusion.

  Ezio’s eyes spark with the enthusiasm of a scholar invited to ramble on about his favorite topic. He pulls a few heavy, hidebound books to the center of his desk and makes a dramatic show of blowing off layers of dust. “Allow me to connect the dots!”

  I throw my hands up, palms out, and laugh. “No, no, forget I asked! Let’s focus on what’s important.”

  “This is important,” Ezio sniffs.

  “Very well. Can you tell me in under half an hour?”

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  When Ezio hesitates, I chortle in amused vindication.

  “You’re incorrigible, young man,” Ezio grumbles.

  I just grin and say, “You had a speech all planned out, didn’t you?”

  Ezio shakes his head ruefully, a good natured grin tugging at the edges of his lips. “I feel downright judged! But, yes, Rakesh and I had prepared a presentation.”

  “All right,” I say, relieved that I’ve dodged the onslaught of convoluted research details. If I know Ezio at all, he’s come up with an absolutely genius way of verifying his hunch. But I’m not a [Scholar] or [Researcher], and I’m just not interested. I nod to myself, convinced that skipping the information is preferable, then do a double take. “Wait. Rakesh is on board with the presentation, too? That changes everything. I’ll listen to the whole thing if it’s a group project.”

  Ezio makes a sour face, like he just bit into a lemon. “I’ve taught that whelp everything he knows.” He shakes his head and sighs in resignation. “Fine. I’ll let him do the honors.”