“Because I knew… you wouldn’t like it,” I grunted. Six. Five. “Fisher?” Four. “Fisher, why are we sprinting straight for that window?” Three. He started to slow, but I grabbed him by the back of the armor Renfis had lent him, and I held on tight. Two. “Pick up your fucking feet, Your Highness,” I snarled. One. I threw him out of the window. Howling, dry wind ripped at my clothes as I launched out of the damned thing after him. “Fuck you, Fisher!” Even hurtling toward the ground at a rate of knots, the smuggler still didn’t shut up.
