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"I ain't gonna do it."
"Yes, you will."
"Says you."
"Says me--and you'll do what I say when we're not playing games."
The Shade glowered at Lydia, then the milky beverage she'd handed him, artificial aroma of sweetener tickling his nose. It was good and hot, pleasant warmth seeping through the cardboard sleeve and into his dead flesh.
He brace himself, then cautiously sipped his first latte. He swallowed, smacked his lips, and cocked his head.
Squinting at Lydia, he scowled—and kept his damn mouth shut, knowing she was gonna do the talking for him.
“Told you so.”
"Yes, you will."
"Says you."
"Says me--and you'll do what I say when we're not playing games."
The Shade glowered at Lydia, then the milky beverage she'd handed him, artificial aroma of sweetener tickling his nose. It was good and hot, pleasant warmth seeping through the cardboard sleeve and into his dead flesh.
He brace himself, then cautiously sipped his first latte. He swallowed, smacked his lips, and cocked his head.
Squinting at Lydia, he scowled—and kept his damn mouth shut, knowing she was gonna do the talking for him.
“Told you so.”
