Eva asked, not for the first time since they had started the climb. “How is this legal? This cannot be legal!” She gripped the iron rungs firmly, and Drew noticed she was actually having no trouble with the ascent up the spare, metal scaffold. “Wanna bet?” he called up to her over the singing wind. “Not particularly,” she retorted. “Not now that I know you only make loaded bets.” “I’m more risk-averse than I let on,” Drew corrected her. “I only like to bet on a sure thing.” “Death and taxes, Mr. Brantley,” Eva reminded him. “The only two sure things.” “You sure are good with the light banter,” he said, slightly winded with the effort to keep up with her. “Jesus, how fit are you? You’re not even out of breath. Here, take that ladder to the right, next.” From the narrow catwalk they crossed to the next ladder, the last leg of their climb. Drew’s hands were chilled to the bone despite his insulated ski gloves, and he could only imagine Eva had to be even colder, slender as she was.
