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Drop by drop he blackens the pigment of our souls

I bend in front of a Gray with two cauterized stuot between a Teleionnaire”

“Fear so, sir I’d be back in the fight, had we the gear”

If he were a Gold or Obsidian, he’d be back in the fight by uished supply of prosthetics on regular infantry Bad investreatest sin of as violence It isn’t The greatest sin is it requires good men to become practical

“I still see it, sir Like a ghost tail” The Gray rubs his eyes, reht as day Can’t sleep a wink”

“You and me both But next time you open your eyes, it’ll be Mars you see You’re from Hippolyte, yes?”

“Born and bred in the jade city, sir”

“Then we’ll share oysters and cigars there soon I pro inconsequential, and move on I stop before an old Red man with a thin quilt about his shoulders despite the heat Bald but for a crescent of thin gray hair, he rolls a burner with practiced ease His eyes flick back and forth as he realizes I am there He takes in a sharp breath “Is it you?” He holds out a hand I take it in ins to shake from nerves I set hter The end of the burner curls with shter back

“Looks like you’ve had a day,” I say

He takes a deep drag His hand steadies “I’et on fine-like If there’s other mouths need feedin’, don’t worry about me I don’t die”

His accent…

“What ionnaire?”

He grins “Yours, as it happens”

“Lykos?” I search his face The crow’s feet around his eyes are peppered with blood-fly bites “What’s your name?”

“Don’t ya recognize lows, burning hot and fast His hand holds it the saers I feel the movement of the deephter It’s been a long time