Zunoder tasted blood and gratitude at the same time. The two did not pair well. Gratitude was warm. Blood was honest. The body's reaction to both annoyed him enough that he had to press one hand against the stairwell wall and wait for Ty's ribs to stop leaning toward the open route.
Below him, the arena still roared. Above him, frightened civilians kept pretending they were not watching. Between both sounds, the wrong door opened on Earth. Only half an inch, but enough. Zunoder smiled with Ty's mouth.
The expression fit badly now. The Name Office had stamped him as face user, and the body had taken it personally. Muscles resisted small things. The left hand tightened when he tried to wave. The tongue cut itself when he said Jade. The eyes, hateful little traitors, kept watering whenever her laugh crawled up from old memory.
