Nikolai inspects the plaster on my forearm. “What happened to your arm?” “It’s just a scratch.” I try to retrieve it, but he tightens his grip on my wrist. Over the watch I never remove. He narrows his eyes. “Why do you seem to get hurt a lot? The other day, it was your hand, and this time, your arm. You don’t strike me as clumsy.”
I love how niko always pays attention to his small details
