“I guess last night’s chat session is over,” she called.
Bryce didn’t appreciate the reminder. He still couldn’t believe he’d said so many words in one go. A minor brush with death, and he’d turned into a fucking Chatty Cathy. Next thing he knew, he’d be blathering on, nonstop, like Aiden. He shuddered to think of it.
“Fine, then,” Sinna retorted to his non-answer.
Bryce ignored it and waved her over.
“But just so you know,” she added when she came to him, “I liked it. Not that it matters.”
It did matter. And that was a problem. Since he didn’t know what the hell to do with it right that second, though, Bryce opted for a more familiar subject: weaponry.
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