“A whole lot of blood.” Fisher pondered. Frowned. “Wait. I seem to recall that your intestines might have been a part of your ensemble.” “Pants and a shirt,” I said dryly. “And a pair of boots with really good soles. Do you have any idea what those boots cost me?” “Let me guess. Your virginity.” “Fuck you, Fisher.” “Sure.” He smirked. “But I’m afraid I don’t have any new boots to trade you for your time.”
