"'The Archivist' isn't impressive enough?" Martin's smile softens at John's easy slide back into considering small talk. Martin recovers his tea and turns away, moving back toward the front desk. "Anyway I think I'd prefer something that doesn't imply you have any roll in the financial elements."

Gentle ribbing aside, he's still beaming. It feels silly to be this delighted about acquiring responsibility over a haphazardly formed business that is still without a surefire means of sustainability, but, well, here he is. He looks over the paperwork he'd left out, and around at the Archive itself, still in some disarray.

"Well," he says, "as the manager, I think we'd best get to work on some of this." He half-expects to be told off for not taking this seriously enough, but nothing happens, no strike of lightning, nothing to stop him from enjoying himself. "And when we're through with that," he says, "I think we ought to go and have ourselves another drink."

He says it like he's feeling gregarious, like he just wants to celebrate their movement forward, not so much like he desperately wants to just call off work today and spend time with John and soak in this feeling that still seems desperately illicit, the strange joy of - god, of having company.

Maybe this time he won't even wake up feeling like he's done something horribly wrong.

He tips his head up at John, still smiling, a little more smug now. "I believe you'll be buying this time."