#6-37

                         “   ——   &&   besides most people don’t think of blade runners as killers,        because to most their actions don’t equate to murder.   “            the more she spoke,        the more   BITTER   she sounds   &&   it translates on her face too.           no longer is she able to keep a facade,       wear a mask.            “   to murder is to end the life of a living being,        yet we are not beings to them   ——   ONLY   OBJECTS.   “

she is seated within the comradery of dangling limbs and books (she knew roy wanted her to keep reading, he said so himself when she held his skull to her ear) gnawing fitfully on her thumb. she knew he had arrived from the moment she’d heard ‘home again, home again, jiggity jig. good evening j.f !” as bear always chimes (kaiser long gone). pris doesn’t move as the intruder enters; he’s young, she’s older. she gets to decide the rules. “took you guys an awful long time, huh,” she comments across the expanse of the room, “it’s funny, the others run so far away, i bet. here i am, right under your nose,” pris proclaims smugly, like a child with the very best comeback. she stands, finally, “how does it feel, killing your ancestors?” she ponders aloud. she doesn’t like the new ones. her and roy and zhora and leon were a family. zhora taught her how to put on lipstick and leon told her funny jokes. they didn’t hunt each other, hurt each other. they just wanted to live. was that so much to want?

      SHARP   WORDS   AND   EDGED   TONGUE  ,     her   eyes   narrow   in   pits   of   darkness .     onyx   `&   charcoal .     she   calls   to   him   across   the   distance  ,      and   in   the   underbrush   there   sounds   wild   growls .     ’     ciamar   a   fhuair   thu   an   seo  !?      ‘          @6-37