“No way.” “Why not?!” Knave whined, resting his chin on his left palm. “Because I don’t trust you,” D’Artagnan replied simply, rubbing the cleaning cloth over one of his knives. The two of them had returned to the house, and the money lender had elected to rest for a short bit and have some food whilst waiting to see if the gang would retaliate. “And I won’t go with someone I don’t trust.” “But that doesn’t mean I have to return the favor,” D’Artagnan answered, “and considering that you probably just got me into a lot of trouble, no way I’m going to help you right now.” “Tch, fine.” “Art it is.”