The firelight danced through the gold of his hair, turning it into an amber cage, carved of light. Can you stand it? I was almost sure I couldn't. Something slammed into me, not physically, but as if a psychic truck had run me down. I fired into its chest and stomach.
Apparently, there were still things I couldn't handle, like child abuse. I don't think paperwork is going to catch this bastard. He gave me pleasant, unreadable, and I turned my attention back to Marks. Ramirez looked at me with that honest face, a line of concern between his eyebrows like a tiny wrinkle of discontent.
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