It was quite a while later, going by the dark window and the glow of the lamp on the nightstand, when I crawled out of a groggy sleep to the sound of quiet voices.
Long practice with waking up in strange places had given me the ability to come to consciousness without stirring or making a sound, so I lay there perfectly still, figuring out who was there before I let them know I was awake.
"…saved my life," Jace was saying. "He's a little shit, but he's obviously not a total psycho."
Ah, they were talking about me. How nice.
I'd have gotten that just from the 'little shit' descriptor, but good to know I wasn't the worst person Jace had ever met.
That was probably Jonathan Grey.
Jonathan Grey had probably been the worst person anyone who'd met him had ever met.
