“Master Friendly!” He jerked round, frowning, hands itching ready to move to knife and cleaver. A figure leaned lazily in a doorway off the street, arms and boots crossed, face all in shadow. “Whatever are the odds of meeting you here?” The voice sounded terribly familiar. “Well, you would know the odds better than me, I’m sure, but a happy chance indeed, on that we can agree.” “We can,” said Friendly, beginning to smile as he realised who it was. “Why, I feel almost as if I threw a pair of sixes…”
Cosca?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!!?!?!?!?!?! WHAT??
