Jasper, with a look of relief, nods.
But his relief first fades and then dies as Dany’s questions – more or less a bazillion of them – unfurl in his general direction.
Dany stares at Jasper’s teacup. Barely touched, his tea is an ice-cold supersaturate. Add a grain of sugar, and the crystals will drop out of liquid form, leaving a heap of sweet at the bottom of his cup. When she asks him about the yellow plague jackets, her eyes are on that cold, sugar-soaked tea.
Yesterday, at the so-called picnic, Dany saw the terminal cases wearing their yellow jackets – but she caught sight of something more. A glint of metal. The image came back to her the night before. The little metal hinge flashed in her dream.
“What’s the metal thingie, on the jackets?” she asks.
Jasper pauses, halfway out
