“Okay,” I muttered.
His deep voice went low.“This will be done soon and I’ll begone.”
Now who was a freak?
I was.
Because I didn’t know exactly what was going on, but I knewit was bad, and I still didn’t want it to end because I knew exactly one solidthing about this guy, the fact he was called Mo, and I didn’t want “this” to bedone soon so he’d be gone.
“What’s your full name?”I asked abruptly.
“Kim Seamus Morrison.”
I stared at him.“Your name is Kim?”
“My mother’s Norwegian.”
Since I wasn’t an expert in Norwegian names, that didn’texplain it, except apparently Kim was a Norwegian dude’s name.
“Your dad?”I pressed.
“Half Scottish.Half dick.”
Oh man.
He rattled that off by rote.
I opened my mouth.
He shook his head.
“This doesn’t get personal,” he stated.
To hell with that.
To hell with nerves too.
There might come a time he’d shower with me in the bathroomwith him.
Or better, with me in the shower too.
So yeah.
To hell with that.
I motioned to the couch, “We’re bunking together.We’rebreathing the same air.Youwannatrain together,I’ll show you the pole and you can spot me on the weight bench.You’d fall on agrenade for me.I’d say this was already personal.”
He said nothing.
“Mo,” I snapped.“Seriously.Who knows how long this isgonnatake?You can’t just hulk around silently with yourgun on your belt, waiting for something to happen to me.”
He again said not a word.
Which told me he could hulk around silently with his gun onhis belt, waiting for something to happen to me.
Or more, waiting for it to happen so he could stop it.
“Okay, Rambo, how about I don’twantyou hulkingaround silently, waiting for something to happen to me,” I amended.
