I looked at the others. Sundancer was on the other side of the kitchen, hands on the edge of the sink. Ballistic had his arms folded. Trickster leaned against one counter, silent, not looking at the scene.
I really can’t blame any of them. Sunny’s probably halfway to puking, and I can totally understand Trickster not wanting to look at this mess.
“Every second you make him go on like this is cruel,” she said, her voice hard.
What does Grue himself think?
“So is every second you spend arguing with me. I’m not negotiating, here. I’m willing for him to suffer if it means there’s a chance we can help him.”
I’m on Taylor’s side in theory, but in practice I don’t think there’s much of a chance. At least if we don’t take Grue’s protagonist armor into account.
She met my eyes, looking like she wanted to slap me, yell at me, or both. “Fine. Then let’s hurry.”
I gave Brian one last look over my shoulder before I hurried off, leaving him behind. The others followed.
See you later, Mr. Freeze…r Room.
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