“You are quiet, Mishka.” The man in question fired his sharp stare over my shoulder. “What are your thoughts?” Another pause stretched out, and I didn’t have to look to know Locke was taking a second to decide if the person asking his opinion was serious about hearing it. Decoy used to do it too, because his ex had bullied and abused his self-esteem into the fucking floor. Locke was a different man, but it burned me up to know his awkward reticence likely came from a place just as horrific.
