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“Good thing I took a shit before,” he grumbles.
“Darrow’s neck would have held up under the strain of fifty more kilos,” Mickey brags idly. “The tensile rating of his cervical—”
“Really?” Virany says tiredly. “Can’t you brag later Mickey?”
“Merely observing my own mastery,” Mickey replies, giving me a little wink. He enjoys pushing the gentle Virany’s buttons. Since he’s employed her help in his project they’ve been spending most waking moments in his laboratory, much to Virany’s chagrin.
“Ow!” Sevro yelps as she prods the back of his spine. “That’s my body.”
“Sorry.”
“Pixie,” I say.
“I almost broke my neck,” Sevro complains.
“Been there, done that. At least you didn’t have to get whipped.”
“I’d rather have been whipped,” he mutters, wincing as he tries to turn his neck. “Be better than this.”
“Not being whipped by Pax,” I reply.
“I saw the video, he wasn’t swinging that hard.”
“Have you ever been whipped? Did you see my back?”
“You see my bloodydamn eye at the Institute? Jackal had it plucked out with a knife, didn’t see me whining.”
“I had my whole bloodydamn body carved open,” I say as the doors hiss open and Mustang enters. “Twice.”
“Oh
, it always comes back to the slagging Carving,” Sevro mutters, wiggling his fingers in the air. “I’m so bloodydamn special, I had my bones peeled. My DNA spliced.”
“Do they always do this?” Virany asks Mustang.
“Seems like,” Mustang says. “Any chance I could bribe you to suture their mouths shut till they learn not to swear so much?”
Mickey perks up. “Well, it’s interesting you ask…”
Sevro interrupts him. “How’s the Gold holding up?” he asks Mustang. “You know?”
“Happy he still has a tongue,” Mustang says. “They’re suturing his chest in the infirmary. He has some internal bleeding from blunt trauma, but he’ll live.”
“You finally went to see him?” I ask.
“I did.” She nods thoughtfully to herself. “He was…emotional. He wanted me to thank you, Sevro. He says he knows he didn’t deserve it.”
“Damn right he didn’t,” Sevro mutters.
“Sefi says the Obsidian will leave him be,” I say.
“The Obsidian?” Mustang asks, my statement pulling her from her thoughts. “All of them.”
I laugh suddenly. “I didn’t even think about that.”
“What’s that?” Sevro asks.
“She spoke for the Obsidian now, not just the Valkyrie. Wasn’t a slip of the tongue. Pan-tribalism wasn’t in place before the riot,” I say. “Must have used it to unite the other warchiefs under her direction.”
