"Bet that won't take you long," she says, but it's almost reflexive; this is just Iris' mouth reaching for an easy compliment while her brain chews over the important information.

"Hmmm. I s'pose I might not hate 'im, then. I'm 'aving a lot of unhelpful feelings 'ere, my love. Mostly along the lines of 'ow I'll tear the throat out of anyone that patronises you. Except 'e's an inmate, and I loved Aslan almost as much as you did, and jaded and gentle and capable of immense brutality sounds like a lot of the people I fall in love with. So it's probably all right."

She sighs.

"I'll 'ave to go meet 'im, I s'pose. What should I wear?"