"I'll show you," he replied, calmly. "But not here."
Her jaw tightened. "Obviously not here."
He nodded, the brick scraping his hair.
"I understand the terms. No names. No public. No leaks. Fine." He sighed, as if conceding ground. "But I want a percentage of your profits."
Her eyes narrowed to slits, the alley's shadows seeming to deepen with her glare. "You said you didn't want profits."
"I said the Light doesn't want profits," he corrected, holding her gaze this time, unblinking.
"The Light's above money. I'm not. I'm the one doing the work. I'm not getting anything out of this otherwise."
She stared, breath held, her fingers testing the fabric of his shirt like she was calculating how many threads to snap.
Her braid's tail brushed her shoulder with an invisible twitch.
The alley held its breath, the air between Lor and Ameth strung tight as a bowstring, each waiting for the other to flinch.
