I meant it to be a joke. It was the flash pictures in my head of the girl who'd begged for her life, and Jonah Cooper, and the silent crowd watching me at the church. Soft brown in color, but what we both saw in those eyes was hard, and he knew that if he didn't get up and go, that she would talk him into anything, everything. He was peering under the table.
Even over Gregory's screams I heard the bone crack. I tried to force it, but it was panicked, and could not hear me. He sighed. His head rested against Jean-Claude's thigh, his hands still loose in the other man's hands.
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