“You prick,” Khouri said, spitting in the process. “You narrow-minded, egotistical prick.” “Congratulations,” Sylveste said. “Now you can progress to words with six syllables. But in the meantime would you mind pointing that unpleasant piece of hardware somewhere other than my face?” “With pleasure,” she said, not allowing the rifle to waver. “I’ve got just the anatomical region in mind.”
