"Wait—what?" Coming around Dorian's shoulder, Sean stares at his profile. "What do you mean you can stop Muirgen?"
Dorian's grip around me loosens, but doesn't relent. "It's been nagging at me since Ian and I encountered her in the Desert packhouse, but it wasn't until this afternoon with Sandy," he meets my eyes for a few revealing seconds, shifting his hips to nestle against mine, then looks at Sean, then Ian, "that I put it together."
"Well, then you best get to sharin'," Big Easy urges in his ringing baritone, then delves into the pocket of his jacket. He tosses a handful of odd-shaped ivory objects onto the table with a noisy clatter and I shudder.
Bones.
Big Easy reads the future with bones. No matter how many times I see it, that still unnerves me.
Big Easy studies their pattern briefly before scooping and returning them to his pocket. "'Cause it's gettin' more complicated by the minute."
