“Good lad. You do your bit on the stage. Tell everyone off the bat, and I’ll sort everything straight after with you.” He points his finger at me and mimes a firing motion as he clicks his tongue. “The opposition won’t know what’s hit them.” Then he’s gone, and the flat feels oddly quiet, and a little violated.
A woman stood at my window with her arms folded and a golden shield clipped at her waist. She had curly brown hair with light brown skin and freckles across her nose. Her hazel eyes pierced mine, and her lips were pursed from her thoughts.