"If you're not too tuckered from your match against the wall, we could rally for a bit?" Sure," I said. "Why not?"We hit back and forth for a while an... we seemed pretty well matched. He was in better shape and quicker, but I seemed to be a bit more consistent. We ended up playing for another hour or so before we finally stopped. He hardly seemed tired beyond a sheen of sweat. I was done, however.He came over, hand outstretched. "Good game," he said as we shook again. He put his other hand on my. ”I pulled out a dagger that we had kept, that was one that had belonged to their assassins. We had cleaned and removed the Curare from the blade and now it was coated in our concentrated cure. I watched her eyes widen as I drew out the blade and I could feel the unease of the others through the bond.“Ah, I see you are familiar with this blade,” I said in an even and emotionless tone. “It is one that was used by one of many assassins that Brenson, or Blackheart as he liked to be called, sent. Why the ceilings are always white? Why not black, or grey, or beige? Why always white?Nick thought about this for a few more minutes before sighing and seating on the edge of his bed. He looks around, the room still a bit dark, just a small light coming in as the clock hits almost six in the morning and the sun is starting to rise.He gets up and goes to the window, opens more the curtains to let more light on, and the window to get some new air and access the balcony. He always liked to wake up. The barista came to help and Larry did too. A couple of spots had hit his shirt, but that was as nothing to the state of my blouse. ‘Damn, damn, damn.’ I said. ‘I am so sorry.’ ‘Don’t worry about it.’ said Larry. I gave him a big smile for that. ‘This kind of thing happens when I am in too much of a hurry.’ ‘I know what you mean.’ he said, this time with a smile–he was looking me up and down. I smiled back and bit my lower-lip–men seem to love that. Makes me seem all innocent. ‘You see,’ I.
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