And then, without notice, Jun put his palm against Keema’s chest. The Peacock’s hand remained there for a moment longer than Keema expected it to, on the hot and sweat-damp skin, trapping under its palm the rapid beat of Keema’s heart, before that hand shoved him away without ceremony. Keema, wide-eyed, tripped backward over one of the benches. He fell on his ass. In the mess of netting, he began to laugh.
