“Though I am sorry to deny you the pleasure of throwing me against the wall, Ahnset, I must tell you I left my knife in my den,” Rekosh said, leaning forward—which made the red markings on his back glow a little stronger. Ahnset chittered softly. “As always, Rekosh, I am sure I will find reason to do so as long as you keep talking.” Rekosh’s mandibles twitched, and his forelegs drummed the floor. “Ah, to be so known by another is a thrill.”
