“Damn,” Anton murmurs, tapping his fingers soundlessly on the table while he processes everything Laila just said. “That is…that is definitely not the bedtime stories I was told as a child.”
“Oh,” Laila says, turning to him with wide-eyed interest. “What kind of stories did you have?”
“About a mouse,” he answers instantly, quite earnest, snapping his gaze to hers, “that would come and take the teeth you lost as a child, give you money for them –“
“We are getting…very far away from the point here,” I interrupt, waving a hand between them to disrupt this nonsense.
“I hate mice,” Laila whispers, grimacing. Anton grins at her.
“Laila,” I sigh, drawing her attention back to me. “Why is it bad if the God of Darkness got the whole world back? It was his to start with.”
“Yes,” she says, no
