“Just trying to give you some time,” Linsora said, quietly adding, “Better to be killed sooner than later in some circumstances.”
Permac leaned against the wall. He could sense that two guards had remained outside. His eyes turned a deep violet for a moment. He shook his head.
Linsora paced. “Pet! Your PET!” she snarled.
Permac laughed, “Defers to his superior officer? Where did that come from?”
“I suppose we're even,” Linsora shrugged. “How’s your hand?”
“Deft change of subject. My hand is fine. Bruised, but not broken. You know, before I met you I didn’t have any scars. I’d never broken a bone. No one had ever hit me. I’d never been ambushed by machines or people. Have you ever had a quiet month? Have you ever known anyone who survived being associated with you?”
“No. Sorry, just being grumpy again,” he said. “How’s your mouth?”
“Swollen, but fine,” she said, running her tongue around the cut on the inside of her cheek. “And I do have the occasional quiet month – usually when you’re not around.”
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