I stared at Camille, trying to process what she'd just said.
"I'm sorry, what?" I repeated, pushing myself up slightly so I could look at her more directly. "The Masked Syndicate is having a what?"
Camille's smile turned into a full grin, clearly enjoying my confusion. "A museum exhibition. You know, where art and historically significant pieces are displayed for the public to view and appreciate?"
"I know what a museum exhibition is," I said, my tone flat. "What I don't understand is why the Masked Syndicate—a collection of personas I created to hide my identity from governments—is being displayed in one."
"Because I pulled some strings," Camille said, as if this explained everything. She shifted on top of me, propping herself up on her elbows so she could see my face better. "The masks, the outfits, the entire aesthetic of each persona. It's all there. Mr. Fox, Mr. Dust, Mr. Angel, Mr. Leviathan, Mr. Beetle, Mr. Jester. Everything."
"Camille—"
