I got my first good look at Lisa since I’d left her bleeding in Ballistic’s headquarters. The scar ran from the corner of her mouth to the corner of her jaw, and dark stitches ran down the length of it. The slang term for this kind of injury was a Glasgow smile or a Chelsea smile, but the term seemed ill-fitting.
I think I prefer her real wide smile.
Where Lisa often had a grin on her face, the cut pulled the corner of her mouth down into a perpetual lopsided-frown rather than a smile.
Hrm.
I don’t like it. But hey, it’s the sort of thing that happens when you’re dealing with fuckers like Jack.
Bitch gave me a dark look as I entered, but many of the others were smiling.
Is she extra pissed at Taylor for something? Running off instead of helping with Tattletale, maybe?
“The people in my territory are singing your praises, Skitter,” Ballistic said.
Oh yeah, I suppose the first part of her run would’ve been through his territory.
It’s time for Skitter to hear about how much good she did on that run. That’s something she needs to hear, so I appreciate Ballistic bringing it up.
“My territory too,” Alec added.
“I didn’t do anything that special. My power did the work.”
Wow, Skitter, you sure know how to avoid looking positively on your accomplishments effectively.
“And you kicked Mannequin’s ass,” Trickster said. He leaned back in his chair, balancing on two of the legs, his feet on the table. “You had a busy night.”
Yeah, that’s for sure.
Although I’m not sure Mannequin has an ass, technically. I don’t think so. Much like Leviathan, actually, until Skitter happened.
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