Vyne leaned forward in his chair, his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk as he spoke around the food in his mouth. Salt and crumbs scattered across his lips as the muffled words escaped. "Whash your problem? Itsh my life."
The careless tone hit Dred like a slap across the face. His spine went rigid against the back of his commander's chair, every muscle in his body coiling tight.
His hands pressed flat against the desk, knuckles whitening as he fought to keep his voice steady.
"This is a serious situation you're getting yourself into." Each word came out clipped, precise, like bullets from a gun. "That man is a wanted criminal!"
Vyne made an exaggerated swallowing motion, his throat bobbing as the nuts went down. He lifted his hand to his mouth, tongue darting out to lick the salt from each finger with deliberate slowness.
His eyes never left Dred's face, watching his brother's growing frustration with obvious amusement.
