saturday at nine
#6
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     The corner of his lips pulled back in a faint, mildly amused half-smile. As scarred as this fellow was, Gabriel’s own mother had been nearly as mangled, and he found a ferocious beauty in her despite her physical flaws. What made the smile vanish was Iskata’s name; Gabriel’s whole demeanor faltered for a moment, as sudden as a flashbulb burning out. His eyes narrowed however slightly and his face contracted, darkening. Accident. Blind. However useful this information was, it did not change the fact that Gabriel knew how she was—and knew now that she or her son would come to his home for the girl. They were all too alike, the Sadria clan.
     Gabriel’s right hand, scarred up and down the forearm and bearing stigmata on the palm, grasped his companion’s firmly and gave it one shake before releasing. “Gabriel de le Poer. Though I wouldn’t doubt Iskata or her brat of a son has mentioned the name before.” Without waiting for a pause, he cocked his head slightly, eyeing Jefferson flatly. “You look like you’ve found enough trouble for yourself,” he added.




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