“What happened to you?” “I got shot in the leg. A couple of days back.” “With a gun?” She looked down at the open three-day-old wound in his thigh, then back up to the bloody hip. She quickly pulled rubber gloves on over her small hands. “Mon Dieu.” “And then my legs and feet got cut with broken glass.” “I see that.” “Then I snapped a rib rolling down a mountain in Switzerland.” “A mountain?” “Yes. Then I fucked up my wrist busting out of some handcuffs.” Justine was silent. Her jaw had dropped open slightly. “And your stomach?” “Knife wound.” “Where?” “Here in Paris. About an hour ago, I
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ha ha!
