Guy was one of those people who tended not to distinguish between talk and politics. But that was in England, where politics mattered, where everything he believed in mattered, where bloody anything mattered. Here, he was just talking to a recently fucked boy, who was, quite frankly, insulting his friends.

Anthony appeared, as he always appeared, dressed impeccably and calm. “I didn’t bring him here,” he commented to his friend’s mild accusation.

He couldn’t see any bruising, since Gabriel had had the decency to at least wear a shirt, but if he had seen it, he would have grinned knowingly to Anthony and made some manner of remark to embarrass Gabriel. It wouldn’t be the first suspicious bruising spotted on the body of a young man after spending the night with Anthony Blunt.