You slide the bag across the table and watch as the hooded figure opposite you peers inside.

“Where the hell did you find this?!”

She looks up at you, her eyes glinting in the shadow of her face. You try to stare her down, but, as usual, you’re the first to look away. You fold your arms tightly against your chest and look down at the beaten wood tabletop.

“Darling.” Katlyn’s voice is low, almost sensual. She extends her hand hand out on the table, palm up. You take it and she turns your hand over, tracing circles in your palm. “You don’t have to be scared of me anymore, you know.” Her voice is just above a whisper now; you can barely hear her over the chatter that fills the pub. You stare at a spot somewhere over her head, extremely aware of her finger lightly trailing around your palm.

The thing inside the bag whimpers audibly. Katlyn glances at it, then lifts her eyebrows at you. You see her mouth form the word, “where?”, but you cannot hear her over the noise around you. You cannot hear her over the noise in your head. You meet her eyes, then look away.

You stay silent.