“Zayvion swore, and I mean he pulled out a raft of curses that made me rethink his upbringing.”

“So, the date was on. I’d tell Zayvion I had a chaperone. Maybe he could help me figure it out.”

“Aspirin?” I asked. It came out sounding a lot like ass spoon, but Zayvion seemed fluent in mumbleze.”

“I glanced up at Zay, then walked over to stand next to him. "You look good with a baby in your arms," he murmured. I took his hand, careful with his fingers that were still wrapped in tape. "Don't get your hopes up, Jones. I'm not the settling-down type." "Want to bet on that?" he asked. "Sure." I made a fist; so did he. We pumped three times. I threw paper. Zayvion threw scissors. I'd lost. Startled, I looked up at him. "Two out of three?" Zay grinned. So did I.”

“The pink rose Zayvion had given me looked a little worse for the wear, but it wasn't dead yet. Tough flowers, roses.”

“I doubt she likes the idea of seeing him put back in a cage.” “Maybe not,” he said. “But she knows that the Authority are the only people who might be able to help him.” “Or kill him,” I said. “That too. What is life without risk?” “Long?” Terric laughed, a sort of high whooping that made me—and Zayvion, much to my surprise—smile. Contagious. For all he had a serious exterior, Terric was the guy you’d want to sit next to at a funny movie, just to hear him laugh.”

“And wonders of wonders, they both shut up and did as I said. If I'd had time I would have pulled out my journal and made a note: Shame and Terric actually listened to me for once. Warn Hell. There's a freeze coming.”