“You’re an asshole for this bargain.” He slid the knife swiftly through the orange flesh of the pumpkin, making a triangle. “Some call me the devil, Judas, Hades, the evil one. But yes, I prefer asshole. Or sir. You ate the blackberries in my home. You eat, you stay. Never heard the stories before now?” “Those tales usually involve a pomegranate.” “Even authors get it wrong sometimes. Perhaps that’s intentional, perhaps a coincidence.”
