The growl ended with a shriek that resounded in the last place with living, breathing beings, at least who were not in shackles.
Jack raised his eyes from the liquid on his arm and looked at the now hysterical blonde, his serious expression melting onto a peculiar, almost pitying one. Almost.
He regained his smile, this time, amused:
"Honey, you only have one shot at killing me, and no one else. You better focus."
The blonde suddenly seemed to have had her throat choked. Her face twisted, and she glared at Jack, before taking a deep breath.
"Is that so?"
The question came in a calm tone, before the waitress cum hunter looked at the traces left by the exchange just now.
She didn't dispute Jack's words, her question more a confirmation than anything else, an acceptance of her fate. But she avoided thinking about the unseen hand that had crashed the spaceship transporting the batch of slaves, and crushed the members of the crew stronger than her.
