"What's that smell?"
"Mint. Go back to sleep."
"Can't keep telling me to sleep just because you don't want to talk to me."
Vica stopped grinding the various herbs in the mortar and pointed her pestle at Constantine as he struggled to sit up. "Don't even think about it. Stay down."
"Come here and make me."
"You couldn't stop me if I beaned you over the head with this."
"Hit me then." He smiled and beckoned her over to his side of the tent. "Come here and sit on my lap while you do it."
She stared him dead in the eye and wound her arm back several times, slowly, as if measuring the distance between them so that she could hurl the pestle straight at his face. He didn't even flinch. If anything, he looked eager to receive it, which made her falter with a strange look on her face. "Stop
