What can we do? I asked. I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me. This was one of his many faces that he used when reality would be too harsh, or too shocking, or too something. I went for the door, leaving Zerbrowski to mutter, Thanks for your help, Mr.
Part of me knew that blood would be like a scalding wave in my mouth. Interesting, he said, are you well enough to finish this show? I promised, I said. I stood there for a minute with my power spilling, cool and seeking, like a wind, except that this wind didn't move your hair, it only crept along your skin. I was too rough.
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