“I have your pet,” he said. Hazan straightened at that, studying Kamran with a wariness that said he didn’t believe him. “My pet?” Kamran held up the jam jar for inspection, elevating the container to Hazan’s eye line. Upon sighting him, the dispirited insect took flight with a terrible frenzy, flinging itself desperately against its prison, its abdomen illuminating at intervals, the small body striking the glass with a series of dull, steady pings. “Will you attempt to deny that this belongs to you?” It was a while before Hazan said, reluctantly, “No.” “I assume you want to keep it.”
