Fate knows, I don’t want to be standing here. I’m worn out, and I stink. I’m not wearing panties, and I’m overripe downtown. There’s no way he doesn’t notice, but I guess he doesn’t care. He’s almost ranting now. “It’s basic self-preservation. Never leave your underbelly exposed. In this case, your—” He waves at my bad leg. “If you’ve got a gi—, uh, shit, a disabled limb, don’t go on offense. No such thing as the best defense is a good offense if your carotid is in some bitch’s teeth. Understood?” He glowers at me.
