Morgan silently stared at Anthony's smiling face.
He felt calm.
Eerily calm, considering he kept imagining different kinds of ways to murder the brat seated in front of him.
The youth seated in front of him was a pale, sickly-looking youth.
A small smile played on his lips, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement.
Anthony ran his hand through his hair, removing the small elastic band that tied it into a ponytail.
He coughed violently then leaned back with a sigh.
"Why are you doing this?" Morgan asked quietly.
" You're one of the Talented, a neural type from the look of things. Shouldn't we be working together to get out of this place alive?"
Anthony smiled, then chuckled, and after a while, he burst into laughter.
Morgan observed him expressionlessly, calmly wiping away a stream of blood from a cut above his eye on the sleeve of his tunic.
After he'd calmed down, Anthony smirked.
"Work with you lot?!" Anthony asked incredulously.
