I’m still alive.
Well.
I’m not quite sure what to make of that.
I blink at O, who is apparently beating out small, smoldering fires from my vest and pant legs as I lie sprawled in the mud, blood, and muck on the tunnel floor.
“That,” O tells me as I move to sit up, “was neat.”
I cough once on my shock. “Neat?” I parrot back.
He winks. “Next stop,
(
Read more... )