Turbinio

Croton Leaves

The hotel itself was abandoned, the door left open by the last guests who fled at the sound of gunfire. Half the seats were overturned, white wine stained the floor, and only two troublemakers were inside, busy offending each other and avoiding the manager at all costs, to no avail.

''Get out of here, you bastards! I'll call the police!'' The manager grabbed the first thing he saw to use as a weapon, a broom.

"Hey, don't get us wrong, it was all a misunderstanding!'' Diego tried to ease the situation.

"Yes, I wasn't shooting at the people!'' You added, dodging the broom. ''I was trying to shoot him!''

''And what do you think this is? A whorehouse? A fighting ring? Get out of here!'' He raised his broom and swept the two of you to the back exit with the fervor of an Old Testament prophet, then the door slammed shut with a violent thud for you and Diego.

You cursed and crossed your arms, watching Diego huff and rub his face with his hands in an attempt to dispel whatever he was feeling, looking up at the sun so he wouldn't have to look at you. He made a small gesture of hopelessness and cursed British execrations that you had never heard before.

He sighed, shrugging his shoulders nervously. What was he thinking?

"Another place on my expulsion list.'' You cursed. ''This time because of you, are you happy?''

"I didn't pay for one of the most expensive rooms for you to unload all your bullets on me.'' He replied harshly. ''You need to learn to control yourself and, above all, not draw any attention!''

''Control myself?! You really want to talk about self-control, Diego?! Don't make me...''

''That's enough!'' He interrupted so abruptly that you instinctively recoiled. ''We need a discreet place, where no one can hear if you start shooting everywhere.''

Although offended, you couldn't agree more. You were still trying to hide your state of confusion. Diego was very tense, he hardly looked like the Diego you had known. Was it possible that the man you knew, the gallant Brit at the races, worthy of praise from dukes and gamblers, had been left behind? He seemed just as miserable as you, especially after the gigantic proof of imperfection that kiss had been.

"I know a place.'' He said. "Follow me.''

"No. Not yet.'' You answered immediately, even though you weren't sure you could control your voice or your face. ''I need to go to my wagon, and check on Cadichon.''

''You'll have time for that later.''

''No, I won't. Tell me where you'll be waiting for me.''

Your firmness made him sigh, and it seemed to work at least a little; one corner of his mouth lifted and a cyan eye flashed over his shoulder in your direction.

"Well, be quick to do it. Agno will show you the way.''

The body is something extremely malleable, you learned that when you saw your kitten transformed into a disgusting reptilian creature, just like Diego. The spirit, even more so, you learned when he kissed you. You'd already had your body mutilated in various ways and your spirit disabled, and you were willing to have faith in whatever malleability you had.

It was a grim reminder of your precarious position, but you were too tired and impatient to care. You expressed no more than a dismissive gesture to Diego before leaving.

You imagined that Agno would just show you the way to where Diego would be waiting for you, but you were surprised when the little dinosaur started walking in front of you, hiding in the shadow of lampposts and on low roofs, out of sight of the local passers-by, but visible to a hungover pile of rags.