There was a silence as choking as the heat in the kitchen, and the hand of Marie hung over the gas burner, the blue flame flicking steadily, smoothing shadows over her face.
"What do you intend to do with the book?" she asked, and her voice was level, her eyes made holes in him.
Gezza hesitated, breathing in, and looked at his open palm-lines, sunk like unsuccessful runes, and trembling a little. "I... don't have one yet."
"Really?" She smirked, monotonized, with the book advancing toward the fire, the leather heating. "You don't have one?"
Did you regret it once using it? she pressed, fire crackling more. "Truth. Don't lie."
"Nooo—" The word was drawn out, yet in his mind a picture of Elena to revenge Mike, Victoria to trample down her bossy smirk. Revenge, not heartless. Shit, I'm not empty.
"Why? Heartless?" she echoed, mocking.
"I don't know", he grumbled, but the crack made--revenge, swallowing pride, that's all.
