When he awoke it was late in the day, and he was surprised to find Blueskin seated by his bedside, watching over him with a drawn sword on his knee, a pistol in each hand, and a blood-stained cloth bound across his brow. She could still remember his face, the perpetually wet lips that turned down at the sides, his drooping Roman eyes. ‘It is nothing. “If you come a step nearer to me,” she said, “I will smash every glass on this table. ‘Soldier of fortune. It was as if her finite human brain could only store a limit of information, details like hair color and fingernail shape easily jettisoned to make room for the nuances of a grin or the emotion of a shoulder blade.
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