luish tinge. Evidently he was not as collected as he had seemed. No matter how he wiped the corners of his mouth, pale flecks of saliva kept reappearing.
Come again? Well, uh . . . actually, its, uh . . . Sengoku fumbled for words, his voice dry and scratchy. What in Gods name are you talking about? Im in no mood Baltimore Ravens for Carolina Panthers practical jokes, let me tell you. In other words . . . its you, said the shill, rubbing his mouth, and then wiping that hand on the tail of his shirt. Your substitute, anyway. He was killed in your place. The killer, who made the first move, apparently mistook him for you |
|
