#whatever............................

instead, desver straightens his spine, no longer using the height of his rifle as leverage:   exhaust spills into the movement, lacking its foxlike grace for a stray second long enough for him to feel it.   the corpse is warm, still.   do those people have families?   do they mourn?   will they be mourned?   “   quae nocent, docent.   ”   desver offers, sparing no more than a glance towards the cadaver’s rest.   that which hurts, teaches.   he doubts she has much more to learn.   “   to think we’d be brought to cooperation...   to think we’d work hand in hand.   would it be me laying there, if you had anything to say in the matter?   ”   the hound tilts his head, a kind of lukewarm hostility still stuck to the heel of his voice---his smile, although obscured, remains genteel.   “   i know you would, had you not been such a crucial asset.   ”