“I’m a stone-cold bastard hell-bent on revenge,” he adds helpfully.
Ninian looks impressed.
“No good will come of me, is what I’m saying.” He shakes his head. “Good thing there’s that three-day wait, right?” His feet are bare, and the white shirt tucked out from under his fleece is a cartoon sneer.
“There are ways around that,” she chuckles.
She holds up the Deagle on one finger, letting it dangle, so big and fat and bright.
“You can sell me a gun, then?” His eyes are puppies.
Ninian nods gently, easy now.
“Are you sure?” he asks.