She hates crusts. Ithink about just getting it over with and slitting my jugular, right now.I could do it. She would die, of course, without me to fee... her - thenourishment of food, yes, but also hope. Every time I descend the steps,she thinks, maybe I will let her go now. Maybe this is the time I fumblemy key, or she can pickpocket my phone. It's not, though. I'm too carefulfor that. I will put the plate inside the arc of her chain where she canreach it, and leave, the light from the top of. ”“You said there were sixty of them,” she said uncertainly. “Are you this protective of all of them?”“Without a doubt,” I said. “They feel the same about me. When they know I need a hand, they rally around me. They all know I’d take a bullet for them. I know they’d do the same.”She smiled thinly. “That’s not what I meant,” she said.“You were asking how many of them I was romantic with,” I nodded. “Right now, three. The one that I talked about hurting me in my speech was the fourth. I get the. More

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