((The Saturday donation bonus: page 3 of 3))
“Mm,” Jercash hummed, eyeing the jar another time. “So how’d he do, then?”
“I expected worse,” said Gohvis.
“Oho! High praise, coming from you.”
“He will still require babysitting for a while longer, I think.”
“Well, yeah. Hell, with your little fire buddy running amok out there, I wouldn’t mind being babysitted, myself.”
“You fear Jackson that much?”
“That’s not a no.”
“Contrary to what you may have heard, I have no interest in fighting him,” said Gohvis.
“That doesn’t mean he isn’t interested in fighting you. From what I’ve heard, he hates you more than anyone. Even Vanderberk. Hell, even my boss. And everybody hates that guy.”
“What has that old loon been up to lately, anyway? I have not been keeping up with--”
“Whoa, whoa. No changing the subject. I want to know what you plan to do if Jackson hunts you down.”
“If that happens, I will probably fight him.”
Jercash’s expression went flat. “That’s it? You’re just gonna fight him head on?”
“Ugh. Come on, man. I’ve got plans, here, and you’re part of them, remember? And even if you weren’t, I still wouldn’t want you to die! You’re the only real friend I have left!”
The Monster gave a low laugh--low enough, in fact, that Emiliana mistook it for a growl, at first, before being entirely surprised that he even could laugh. “Your concern is touching.”
“You think I’m joking? Well, I’m not, goddammit. In fact, if I’m being completely honest, you’re probably the only person whose company I find even remotely enjoyable, anymore.”
Emiliana wasn’t quite sure what she was witnessing.
Gohvis still seemed amused. “I shall try not to die for your sake, then.”
“I’m not in the mood for your sarcasm, asshole. If you die, then who does that leave me with, huh?” He held up the jar again. “This shithead? Gimme a break!”