“Are you saying that you believe mountains exist? Because I’m                pretty sure most people know that they don’t, in fact, actually exist.”

Masaomi’s eyes widened. Damn. He normally carried a flickblade with him, but he’d left it at home on this occasion. Now he was against a wall with a knife to his throat, staring at a tall and strong-looking man. He nearly called him Shizuo, but his black hair and blue eyes told him that he only resembled the man.