“Oh, you’re the life of the party, Tana, for sure.” She blinks. “I am?” “No, pet. That was sarcasm. We could be in the middle of the wildest piss-up in the world, draped with gorgeous men and drinking and dancing, and your eyes would go glassy, and you’d tell us some poor sod was murdered on the very spot we’re standing a century back. Oh, and also, that we’re all going to die in a week.”
