“What are you going to do, Parker?” she asked, and the quaver of fear had finally reached her voice. “I'm going to drink his blood,” he said. “I'm going to chew up his heart and spit it into the gutter for the dogs to raise a leg at. I'm going to peel the skin off him and rip out his veins and hang him with them.”
Subtlety is not Parker's strong suit.
