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“It’s a little early for a celebratory drink, isn’t it?”
Edgar gave his brother a sharp look as he uncorked the bottle. “Don’t be an ass. It’s for removing the spirit gum.”
Sabin smiled unapologetically. The castle’s machinery rumbled around them.
“It was quite a disguise,” Celes said slowly.
Using a brandy-soaked handkerchief, Edgar scrubbed at his face. “You should have seen the earlier versions. Much more elaborate. Monocles. Eye patches. Red hair. Sideburns. A truly dashing scar.”
Celes nodded, suspiciously solemn. “The fake nose was a nice touch.”
Edgar stopped scrubbing. “What? The nose wasn’t fake. What?”
Sabin laughed.