Origins of Blood (RE)

“And then I told her she should go wipe someone else’s ass.”

Their laughter is ugly. I sit silent like a statue, while Arthur rests beside me, equally silent but infinitely more comfortable.

I want to frown. I want to tell the scarred bastard to shut his crooked-toothed mouth.

But he keeps talking, teeth bared in a grotesque parody of joy.

“Man, Eriksson. Long has it been.”

He claps him on the shoulder.

The red girl stands close to the disguised noble—Eriksson.

I do frown now.

He’s said that exact phrase five times already.

I squint at Arthur, whose eyes meet mine like knives crossing.

“Shall we now begin with our actual plan?”