Jax limped ahead, shoulder still dragging a bit of gravity with it. Hana kept half a step behind him, shawl dim but twitching like it hadn't decided we were safe.Spoiler: we weren't.
"Cathedral's that way," I said, nodding toward the black spires cutting through the rain.
"Yeah i changed my mind," Jax grunted, "There's an outpost a block north. If it's still standing, it'll have med kits and maybe some food. We could use both."
I wanted to say we don't have time. I wanted to sound heroic. What came out was:"Fine. But if I see another brass bastard, I'm quitting hunting and selling socks."
Hana gave me a side-eye through the mist. "You'd still find a way to almost die doing it."
"Occupational hazard," I said.
We moved. The rain turned thicker, stickier. It hit the cooling metal behind us and hissed like it disapproved of our optimism. The streetlights buzzed half-dead, reflecting on puddles that still carried chunks of the Butcher's armor.
