“Yes,” I snap, gulping what remains in the glass in one go. “Is your questioning over?” “That’s one.” He takes a leisurely sip of his wine. “One?” “One strike. I told you not to speak to me in that tone.” “What tone should I speak in then? Is there a fucking manual on how to talk to a murderer?” I hiss the last word under my breath. “Two. And while there’s no manual, you ought to use that clever head of yours and not provoke me.”
