John tugged at my curl. “Come on, I don’t want to choose.” “I decided to kill Horace all by myself last time,” I pointed out. John sighed and mumbled against me, “You’re being a bitch.” “Don’t try to goad me into action.” I pulled back from his embrace. “You know it’s your turn to choose if we kill someone. You can’t just expect me to always decide. That’s rude.” We glared at each other.
