They'd been yammering together, the roe and the barman, and Brindle hadn't been able to hear or see. The crowd was as good as it was bad, and it had him on edge. He was hunched over the bar: shoulders curled protectively inwards, and hands wrapped around his drink. He was staring down on it, straining to hear (the moving mass of people making any attempts to see even more impossible). There was some disappointment when the barman moved away, innocuous, because if anyone had words worth sharing...
Brindle could wait awhile, even so. He was good at that. The best. That was why Zhi relied on him. That was why he couldn't let her down.
Brindle could wait awhile, even so. He was good at that. The best. That was why Zhi relied on him. That was why he couldn't let her down.
