I pick at a splinter on the barstool.
“We don’t know how much refined black milk there is. It could dry up tomorrow or it could take a year. All that matters is there’s an end.”
“Amen to that.”
I look at him.
He nods.
“A funny thing to say down here, I know. But I think apt.”
“I wasn’t going to argue with you.”
Bill looks into the dark.
“I suppose you’ll be heading home.”
I rub my human arm. My hand comes away wet.
“Huh.”
“What?”
“I think I got shot.”
Bill gets up and comes around me.
“Let me see.”
I shrug off half the coat and he tears open my shirtsleeve. Holds up a candle and shakes his head.
“It’s not a shot. More like a bugbite or prick from one of those damned bushes in the park.”
“Good. I’d be embarrassed taking a bullet from one of those Hellion mercs.”
Bill helps me put the coat back on. Now that I’ve noticed it, the bite or whatever itches.
“As I observed earlier, I suppose you’ll be wanting to get back home.”
“I do. But there are a couple of things I need to take care of.”
“You feel up to going back out there?”
“’Cause of the arm? I’m fine.”
“You’re a little white is all. With them scars, your face is a bit like an ice-skating rink.”
“Are you saying you went ice-skating, Bill?”
He shakes his head.
“Me? No. But I saw it once on a lake. All these kids and ladies twirling around. I thought it must be what Heaven looks like.”
“If we do our work right, maybe we’ll both find out.”
He gets up. Dusts off his pants.
“I didn’t think you were too keen on getting to Elysium.”