“Are you sure this thing will work?”
Beauty slid a sideways look at the human lounging against the alley wall next to him. Although lounging was entirely the wrong word. Dr. Eric Archer looked stiff and uncomfortable, as though his only acquaintance with the word “lounge” was bypassing it in the dictionary en route to something like lymphocyte.
Beauty sighed. “Relax. You look like you’ve got a stick up your ass. We’re supposed to be gangers. Remember?”
“Yeah, like I could forget dressed like this. I’m going to get fleas from this thing,” Eric grimaced, rolling his shoulders in the tattered leather jacket.
They were both dressed in the same grubby coveralls with decorated leathers that marked them as members of one of the many gangs who controlled the undercity on Toloria. Vicious turf
