The man’s scent is pure terror, mixed with a drop of shame. He started s**t but doesn’t want to lose face in front of his colleagues. “Is this a threat?”
“If you have to ask, I must be doing something wrong.” Koen shifts me and hooks me at his side. The agent’s friend— older and clearly wiser— takes about five steps back and reaches for his weapon.
So does every other person in the lobby.
Koen ignores them all. “You have two options, shitmuncher. You can apologize to the lady this very instant, or you can wait till later to be f****d up. Your choice. And don’t worry, I won’t be disappointed either way.”
“I’m not afraid of your animals. Send them after me, and see what— ”
“Whoa. Highly offensive. Whatever have I done to make you think that I wouldn’t kill you myself?”
Something in Koe
