It’s in the twitching, tapping fingers, never at rest, always prowling for more, more, more.
I glance at the man he has brought as his second. The bastard is pale, with sharp features and darkeyes constantly roving every corner.
He’s been in the room all of five seconds, and I have the feeling he’s already sized Adriano and meup quite thoroughly.
“Siema, Lucio!” Kazimierz says in Polish, greeting me as though we’re old friends.
I incline my head coldly. “Kazimierz.”
He makes no attempt to shake my hand. I’m not upset about that.
“This is my second, Adriano,” I introduce.
“A pleasure, surely.” Kazimierz smiles. “And yet, does it matter?” he asks me. “After all, they’rejust… spare parts.”
Adriano stiffens violently. Even from my peripheral vision, I can see that his fa
