Patrick and Grace Draven are coming over for dinner tonight. I’m making fajitas. Quick, easy, and customizable.
Need to write a big battle for Ruby Fever. Am very sleepy. Need to drink some coffee.
Need to run an errand.
::Throws snippet. Runs off::
I found Linus in the motor pool. He had carved out a spot between Grandma Frida’s armored vehicle kingdom and Regina’s smaller workshop. When I walked in, he was standing in the middle of a carefully arranged mosaic of odd metal parts. The husk of what used to be a Paladin, a mobile field artillery system which looked like a tank but wasn’t, rested next to him, thoroughly gutted. Grandma Frida stood at her work bench, her left arm bent and supporting her right elbow, while her right hand covered her mouth.
Grandma Frida saw me. “Please tell me you’ve come to take him away. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”
“And here I thought we’d reached an understanding, Ms. Afram.” Linus pondered the array of parts.
“When I sold the St. George to you, I didn’t know you would dismember him.”
“I’m making him into something we can use.”
Linus raised his hand, fingers up, as if cupping a glass of cognac. Translucent green streaked from his fingertips. Two random parts rose in the air, twisted, and merged. As they combined, a pulse of gold light flashed from where they touched, running through the metal in thin veins. The new part floated down and rested gently on the floor.
Grandma Frida shook her head. “Professional courtesy, Linus. Nobody wants to see how the sausage gets made.”