*Thor*
“Good God, old boy ! What the devil happened to you ?" Braze Ridge exclaims, getting up from behind his desk as I limp into his library in late afternoon.
I know I look a fright, with a bruise around my eye, a scrape on my chin, my left arm in a sling to keep the pressure off my shoulder, and an old walking stick … with thorny vines carved in the wood and a golden lion's head at the tip … that had once been used by my grandfather providing support for his healing leg. The cane Gina had given me had been serviceable, but hardly dapper.
“I got into a bit of a bother a few nights back in some bad parts of town, looking for your sister”. I tell him.
“And had no luck finding her, I'd wager”. Braze wanders over to the sideboard and pour whisky into two glasses. "Make yourself comforta
