Jack relaxed. He had every reason to dislike Briggs, but he didn’t. He wasn’t bad, just weak. “If I ever make it to the Guild, I’ll include you in my stories.” Briggs seemed to cheer up at this. He’d wanted to be like Friedland Chymes for years—yet now he was thinking he’d prefer to be like Spratt. A bit down at heel and almost invisible locked away at the NCD—but honest.
