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Chapter 224: Russian Roulette
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Chapter 226: Proprioception
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... swears it’s friendly—palm up, fingers splayed wide—cradling the thing as though it might bite if I gave it reason. I didn’t grip it so much as allow it to rest there, balanced and deeply suspicious of my intentions.
Which, to be fair, was mutual.
Now, for those of you blissfully unfamiliar with how instruments of mortality tend to conduct themselves in polite society, allow me to enlighten you: they resent casual familiarity. They’re like cats in that way—you have to earn their r ...
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