#eso t

  “Ya know? You’re the best fucking friend I’veever had.”   “You’re just saying that because I’mletting you use me as a pillow.” Three eyes glance away, at the other side ofthe room. A hand settles on James chest, too long fingers curling in the dirtyfabric of his shirt and – it might just be the blow to the head he got earlier,but something about that seems incrediblyfunny.   He laughs hard enough that it makeshim cough. The coughing makes his side hurt.   Or maybe it’s the other way around?   Maybe he’s coughing because his side hurts?   Damn, he’s not sure. It kind of feelslike he’s had a little too much to drink, except his mouth is incredibly dryand James knows that’s not the case. “Nah,”says James, because it seemsincredibly important, making sure that Iona knows this right now. “I mean it.”   Iona snorts. “That’s pathetic, Flint.I’m a shitty friend.”   “You’re a great friend. You’ve, fuck,ya know, you’ve been a great friend since that stupid cruise ship.”   “I tried to kill you on that cruise ship.”   “Yeah, so? That’s just – details.”   “Pretty sure the details are the importantpart. Especially when they involvesomeone holding a gun to your head and threatening to pull the trigger.”   “But you didn’t,” says James, hooking a hand around Iona’s wrist. It’s notuntil after he’s gotten a grip on the mottled blue skin that James realizes hisfingers are shaking.   Oh well.  Too late to let go now.   Iona’s frown deepens. “Buddy, if you’reonly criteria for a best friend is doesn’tactually blow out my brains, you should probablystart thinking about raising them.”   “S’not the only criteria.” James fumbles on the last word, laughs again. Itmakes the ache spread out over his ribs so he rolls onto one side, buries hisface in Iona’s stomach. “Just, you know, a big one.”   The hand shifts, settles on James ribsinstead. “You’re an idiot, Flint.”   “Nah. I’m smart as – shit, what is it?Right, right, smart as paint.”   “Just because Teach says something,that doesn’t mean it’s true. He’s not right about everything you know.”   “Ye-ah, he kind of is. Said, uh, youknow, I can’t remember shit that he’ssaid to me. But it’s probably allbeen true.”   “Every third word out of his mouth isa lie,” grumbles Iona, but they both know that he only half-means it. “And every word out of your mouth is stupid.”   “And you’re mean,” says James, becausethat seems like a great come back right then. He presses his forehead harderagainst Iona’s stomach only to hit a sore spot, wince and pull backwards.   The hand settles on the curve of hishead, instead. Too long fingers thread through James messy hair. “Just bequiet, Flint. You’re giving me a headache.”   “Yeah.” James chuckles again. “Okay.”