Meeting Darshan properly had made me even angrier at Cly. I liked him, damn it. He had ideas, and passion, and graceful long-fingered hands that drew beautiful things. Talking to him had felt like a ray of light after a long imprisonment in the darkness. It pissed me off that Cly had taken one look at him and seen a loner, a nerd without a fancy last name to back him up, and decided he was easy prey. It pissed me off that I had to meet him wearing Cly’s face.
