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Chapter 60: How to NOT get in home after a long night in a manhole (4)
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Even there, sitting in the darkest corner of the cell, he looked more like a stain than a man. The shaved head exposed the runes — the same ones that seemed carved in anger and then left to fate. The scars, old, were exactly where I remembered. The jagged line of the jaw. The cut on the left eyebrow that ran almost down to the cheekbone. Even the eyes were the same: too steady, too calm. As if they never needed to blink.
The last time I saw those eyes, I was bleeding from my mout ...
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