[Dark Saint Alaick]

“Nice trench.” He says as he almost glides toward me. For an instant he seems intriguing. If I
was still mortal, I probably would have thought about going home with him. “Beautiful texture,”
he says as his fingertips slide across my arm. “Is it a Wang?”
Oh hell no, I’m thinking. I shake out the cobwebs and push his hand away.
“Actually, I got it at Wal-Mart. But thanks for asking, poseur.”
He smiles softly and shakes his head. Before I can blink, his hand removes a Glock .45 from
nowhere and plugs me with two shots. I fell the burn of phosphorous in my gut.
I don’t remember much after that.
I do remember the utter look of shock on his face as I lunged at him. Apparently he didn’t
expect me to soak that kind of damage. But Martin had taught me a few things about absorbing
pain.
My little poseur friend did not have such training.