I should probably say something to reassure him. Sentorr would. Kivian would. Fran sure would. But all I do is crack my knuckles again, the blood singing in my veins at the thought of the upcoming fight. Some would say it’s a nervous habit, except I’m not nervous. I’m full of anticipation and irrational anger, both of which make my bloodthirsty pulse beat harder with every passing moment.
