.. what?” she wondered. “I swear, you make less sense every time I talk with you. Anyway, I want you with me.”“Me?” he asked, pointing at hi...self with a polymer finger. “What the flying fuck do you need me for? You’ve learned as much as you can from the instructors, enough to give you an edge over that bitch. There’s nothing more I can do to help you, and you told Sarif that you didn’t want any humans marching with you, right? You said it would be a bad look.”“I want you at my side,” she. But it finally penetrated, what his mother was saying, and he damned near choked on a bite of pancake. Swallowing quickly, he asked, "What? Me? Oh come on, mom--I'm sure old enough to take care of myself." His mother frowned at him. "Yes, I suppose so. But there's the new pool in the patio, and you can't swim very well, you'll admit." She was another lovely woman, his mom; but he wasn't seeing that now. She was pissing him off with that babysitter crap. 'Man! How old did she think he was--ten?. More

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