At the Bookstore
Sex with me had already dabbed him out; it would be beyond cruel if he evolved a victim for the Nephilim's bizarrely mislaid humor.
Fortunately, I had already glimpsed Micke
come in today. He was active in his office, but possibly that yet tallied as safe. Alone he might be, but any howls from a Nephilim assault would instantly draw attention.
Wilson? He and I had often had a lively flirtation.
Clearly one might deem his erratic pursuit of me indicative of something more than friendship. Still, in the last few weeks, he and I hadn't chatted very much. I'd been extremely
distracted by the nephilim assaults. Those, and Shaman.
Ah, Shaman. There it was, the likelihood that had been wafting in the back of my psyche. The certainty I'd been averting because it implied reaching him, shattering the stillness I'd strived so hard to retain.