“Seems ya change every time I lay my orisons on ya. Yer name, your face, number of eyeballs and fingers, sometimes your heart. But you were never a quitter, not even when I had you pull that oar. Never gave up. Till now.” Gunner’s point was something else entirely, but Gavin couldn’t get past how he’d put ‘when I had you pull that oar.’ Oh, yes, let’s do pretend my enslavement was nothing personal, you piece of human— Then again, maybe it hadn’t been. As Prism, Gavin’s own murders had fallen like rain on the heads of the just and the unjust alike. Shit. There goes my righteous fury. That was
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