Opening his eyes, he found Blaze slumped forward, bracing himself on one shaking arm while his other hand grasped his chest. His porcelain skin was now a ghostly white. Richard stood and saluted Tristan. “Thanks, man. I’ll see you after the next one.” He grabbed his shirt, pulled it on, and turned to leave. “How the fuck have you done this twelve times?” Blaze asked, voice strained. “Eh.” Richard tossed his packed leather bag over his shoulder. “You get used to it. Nice working with you. It was fun.”
