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... p> "Jackpot?"
Rafel realized he had said this out loud. And now, the woman was standing and looking at him like he was one of two things: retarded. Or fucking high.
"Shit. Er. . .fuck. Sorry, I didn’t mean that, ehm, like that," he said with a start, trying to weave around his outburst. His brain was whirling. This was one of those times he’d have to pray and hope he had a friend in one of the Celestials. ’O holy Martyr, I may be a demon. A depraved, lustful one, but hear me out. ...
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