Several of the guards’ eyes go to my exposed legs. One of them glances from my calves to my face, and I raise my eyebrows at him. I mean, really? We are literally breathing in human remains and he wants to check out a pair of shapely legs? For shame. The Reaper steps in front of me. “You want a dress too?” he asks the offending man. I raise my eyebrows. I assumed the horseman didn’t notice these sorts of nonverbal interactions. Apparently, I was wrong. The man sputters some response. “No?” the horseman interrupts. “Then stop eye-fucking the girl.”
