"It is so refreshing to hear voices from the old country, after all this time." Anasztaz whispered to the man that was sitting on the floor of the drug den between his legs, as he sat above him on an old wooden chair combing through his dirty hair and flaking scalp with his lean and perfect fingers.

The man below him now had mostly departed his mind. First through the dose of heroin, then through the Galloi's ensnaring craft, and finally after the loss of blood. He was stable, but not speaking anymore.

"I admit I had been following you, since I heard your voice. I knew you would be just right."

The man bobbed his head enough to turn and gaze at Anasztaz absently. He was another Hungarian immigrant, much recent than he was, just recently established after managing to score fake papers.

"And you did deliver, so well. Tell me again about the girl, please." in that word there was the inflection. It wasn't a plead, it was a command, and the man would sing even though his mind could even barely process the flow of events. "I want to hear it from the start again."



Since then Anasztaz had been watching through the filthy glass of the empty apartment of the third floor, staring intently across the street. Soon he'd see her again, he was certain. His Beast was eager, pacing inside his chest, but he liked to think of it as butterflies in his stomach.