There’s a brief flash of pain, then several beads of blood drip onto the circular tray. The metal pan dips as it takes on the weight of my blood, then lifts, then dips again, until it’s only a little lower than the other, empty pan. My eyes flick to Famine. “What does that mean?” “It means that you’re a decently good person.” I give him an incredulous look. “Decently good?” I say. “I saved your ass once upon a time. That didn’t earn me any heaven points?” “You’ve also tried to kill my ass, in case you’ve forgotten, so no.” “Fine. Let’s see how you size up then on your little holy scale,” I
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