I like her,” Sanya rumbled in his deep, half-swallowed accent. “She is so tiny and fierce. I don’t suppose she knows how to – ” “Sanya,” Michael said, his voice very firm. “We have talked about this.” The dark-skinned Russian sighed and shrugged. “It could not hurt to ask.” “Sanya.” He lifted both hands in a gesture of surrender, grinning, and fell silent. The.
-Jim Butcher
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