Magnus’ Day: an excerpt
Costigan ordered another round. The girl leaned into the bar. Magnus listened to her ask questions about their work. She was young and pretty, relaxed with the two men. Costigan began to touch her, a palm against the back or a finger at her wrist, in a gentle sequence that Magnus had witnessed before. The girl unbuttoned her shirt to show them the elaborate serpent that wound around her arm.
“You must have had a bad day,” she said. She directed the statement to Magnus.
“We had a day that we disagreed about,” he said. “But that will pass.”
“You two work together?” she asked.
“I work for him,” Costigan said. “But he works for someone else, so that doesn’t really matter.”
The girl’s breast pushed against Costigan’s chest as she leaned across the bar. Her hair fell over her face. She giggled.
“You are impertinent, young lady,” Magnus said.
“You are a meanie,” the girl laughed.
She stuck her tongue out. The slender, moist pink stretch of flesh lingered for a moment against her chin, the point as alive as the serpent that wound around her arm. In the center of her tongue was a silver steel ball. She presented it as if for inspection.
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