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. . . "Not this time. It'd be running, and I don't run." I pick the whetstone back up, more out of habit than need. "I do things my way. That's the whole difference between me and whatever he thinks he still owns." She almost smiles - the particular Kes almost-smile that means she's recognized something in me she sees in herself, even if she'd never say so out loud. "Poor Hoseon. Just collateral in someone else's old argument." "Hoseon's fine. Hoseon's going to have a very boring week, and by the end of it he won't even remember why." I meet her eyes. "The old man's the one who should be worried." "Ren." There's something strained in how she says my name. "If this guy trained you... Whatever you're planning..." "He trained a little street kid who didn't know any better." I stand, and the conversation, as far as I'm concerned, is over. "He's about to meet the version of me that does." . . . | |