"A bow and arrows. No armor, no backup support beyond one sleepy night shift scientist that had enough sense to call me the moment you walked through the Crack?"
I look down, and meet his eyes, holding his gaze with a stare of my own.
"What sort of routine is that?"
I am so mad at him. Furious. Fuming.
Ready to jab my fingers into his foolish head wound.
no subject
I look down, and meet his eyes, holding his gaze with a stare of my own.
"What sort of routine is that?"
I am so mad at him. Furious. Fuming.
Ready to jab my fingers into his foolish head wound.