Lisandro told me that you ordered him to baby-sit the coffin. Zerbrowski squeezed my arm hard enough to bruise. He shook his head. Who was I to throw stones at Bert, when he might pass Evans's radar unscathed, and I knew that I would go
Yeah, I could have handled it better. Why? I found my voice, hoarse and not at all like the smooth pull of his. I don't want that. Funny how you try to avoid one evil, and fall headlong into another.
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