Pauly gives an impressed grin. “Nice reflexes. You train?” “I play hockey,” Pace replies gruffly, eyes narrowed at Grant. The frat boy shakes his fist and wiggles his fingers, glaring daggers. “That’s right, that’s right.” Pauly nods, sizing Pace up. “You’re the one who stuck Maddox during the Fury.” Pace shrugs, raising his chin. “Yeah, so?” Pauly has always been a no-nonsense sort of guy, so he meets Pace’s challenging stare with one of his own. “So with reflexes like that, you don’t need to mess with blades.” The older man chews on his bottom lip, then jerks his chin. “Get over here. I’ll
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