Echo had stopped counting how many people were in the hall a long time ago.
At first it had been easy. The crowd had been angry and confused and half drunk, and after Seul and the others had slipped out, he'd kept them busy the way he'd promised. A crack of sound behind someone's head here. A shout thrown across the room to make two people turn on each other there. He'd ducked and weaved and kept moving, always on the edge of the chaos, never in the middle of it, and for a while it had almost been fun.
But the crowd kept growing.
Word was spreading through the prison. Intruders. Rats in the walls. Every few minutes, more people poured in through the doors, looking for someone to fight. Now there were more people in this hall than there had been at the start, and fewer of them were confused. More of them were looking at him.
