“Fucking Barbara,” he hisses. I grab a crutch and hop up onto my good foot. “Yeah, fucking Barbara. Let’s fuck her up,” I say, whipping my knife from the sheath at my back. “Who’s Barbara?” “The raccoon.” I blink at him as Fionn pockets his phone and strides to the table to grab his truck keys. “Aww, I don’t want to fuck her up. She sounds cute.”
