She looks at me oddly, ticks a peek Oba, then kinda smiles as she says. “Yes, of course, he is Mal after all.”
Perfect answer, I feel trapped in some kind of cell surrounded by the mad.
On the porch, Mandal looks at Pilar, who has no smiles for me, no nothing, just black cobra eyes scrutinizing me, her fingers fidgeting with her handgun, hair trigger tick’s on her peach colored lips.
Again, those eyes absolutely tacked on me, no flinch; there is no blink, just pure intensity. She reminds me of one of those King Cobras on National Geographic, ready to whip out and sink those fangs into my throat. I smile at her, nothing. I turn to Oba, she smiles at me, again she seems amused as the blond moves to the scary girl, bends, whispers to her, kisses her on the lips, not a peck, but a luscious
