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Everyone’s scared all the time. That’s the thing you’ve got to tell yourself.
If people don’t like you, it’s their problem, don’t make yourself suffer for it. Fuck ’em, she’d always said. You’ll find enough folk want you to suffer, there’s no need to help the bastards.
Sunny once heard it said that loaves are all about the grooves. They won’t rise properly without them. Maybe people are the same. They’ll never come out well unless they’re cut a bit.
“That’s my fucking monk!” Vigga crashed down on the fish-man knees first, ramming him into the deck in a crumpled heap.
Its love
“Can you win?” “Eh…” She dropped forwards onto her hands, blood soaking through her vest, running down one tattooed arm in streaks. “Sometimes…” There was no escaping Cardinal Zizka’s conclusion. “A devil is what you need.”
He’d fought many duels. Enough to know when he wasn’t going to win. But when you can’t die, a draw is enough.
