“Do you at least have a gun?” I asked. “Maybe you can distract her.” “I have a knife,” Marcone said. “Jusht like a gangshter,” I said. “Bringsh a knife to an apocalypshe fight.” Marcone gave me a level look and then said, in a much more conversational tone, “Honestly, Dresden. If you used your mind half as much as your mouth, you’d be running the place by now.”
I agree with Marcone here - HARRY YOU ARE LITERALLY FLEEING FROM / FIGHTING A PROTOGOD!
