I sat there for a long time after Maki said that.
Not because the words themselves were complicated. They were simple. Direct. The kind of thing a three-hundred-year-old murder cat says when she has run out of ways to be horny about the situation and has to settle for being honest instead.
I will sit in front of it.
Nothing will get through.
I reached back and scratched behind her ears without thinking, and her purr dropped into a register that shook the bench. The basement lights hummed above us, and outside and upstairs the house was waking up, seventeen people pulling themselves from sleep because the sun had ideas about their schedules, and none of them knew that the guy who made their roster, kissed their healer, and beat their instructor in a sparring match nine weeks ago was turning into the architectural equivalent of a hole in the wall of reality.
Fun morning.
"Maki."
"Mm."
"If anything comes through while I'm not home, you protect Natalia first."
