" Heads up!”
He tossed something at Driggs. It looked like a little football. It was shaped like a little football. It was, for all intents and purposes, a little football—except that it was made of gold. Driggs’s eyes went wide at the prospect of dropping a priceless invention to the floor and thereby blowing up the universe or doing something equally undesirable, but he managed to catch it with only the smallest of fumbles.
“Woo!” he hooted in celebration, hoisting it above his head. “Sports!”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Uncle Mort said, stuffing a large compass into his pocket. “Unless you want to kick-start a new bubonic plague. If you want to kick-start a new bubonic plague, then by all means, continue with the excessive celebration.”
Lex just stared at him. “You tossed a potentially plague-starting device at someone who is, at best, intermittently tangible?”
“You need to lighten up a little bit, Lex,” Uncle Mort replied. “If you can’t have fun at the end of the damn world, when can you?”
Lex and Driggs exchanged glances. “I hope you’re kidding.”
“So do I. Hand me that map, would you?”
Lex limply passed him a rolled-up world map. She was beyond trying to understand what was going on. She’d just go where she was pointed. She’d do whatever she was instructed to do. She’d stop asking questions.
“What are we doing?” burst out of her mouth milliseconds later "

― Gina Damico , Rogue (Croak, #3)