The air was thick with lemon polish and old paper, and Gezza could feel his lungs burning with the inhale.
"I am not one of those creeps, you see? His voice broke, lie dripping like sweat. "The history's just... amazing."
Marie pulled her glasses up narrowing her eyes behind them—click as they squeeked up the glare of the fluorescent lights like knives.
A sharp gasp slipped out. "I still don't trust you."
Gezza pushed greasy hair, snickering strands falling against fingers. Use the book? The idea was slimy, and unnatural.
The Playbook was beating against his spine--low, threatening growl.
"How'd it work?" he strained, bent and the desk creaked with his palms.
Marie glanced away, awkward. "Books have read tell's... You requirer part of the name of the woman."
"Full name", Gezza interrupted, too fast.
Her head snapped back. "How do you know that?"
Gezza grinned--no warmth--all teeth.
"Call it a hunch." Advancing to her ear, his breath hot and sour, he said: I have the book.
