saturday at nine
#8
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     If there was one thing Gabriel considered himself competent, if not talented in, it was his attention to detail. In truth, this was not necessary a good thing. For indeed, the man had developed a frightful bit of paranoia after so many years. Not all of his enemies were dead, and not all dangers gone. They lurked just outside of the borders, watching, waiting, and above all he had to remain diligent. To not do so was a foolish thing indeed, and he would reject his position as commander should that day ever come.
     That was why he saw the expression in reference to DaVinci and noted it so quickly. It would make things easier down the line, knowing that Jefferson knew how his subleader acted. Gabriel offered a polite smile at his companion’s comment. “You’d be surprised,” he offered. “The last leader of Inferni had one eye and a dozen more scars then you and still terrified the neighboring packs.” She had been doing that long before Gabriel and his siblings had been born, of course. “I also knew a man in a similar situation who could probably make the devil shudder.” This was neither a joke nor hypothetical praise. If there was one thing Gabriel believed it was that his parents were monsters.



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