I snap the lighter open.

He places the pen on his desk, aligning it perfectly with the vertical edge of his blotter.

– Don’t even think about it.

I tap the tip of the unlit cigarette.

– Buddy, it’s too fucking late for that, I’m thinking about it.

He smiles, no doubt dying for me to light up so he can stop dicking around with the boss’ PowerPoint presentation and go to work on me instead.

– Then you best find something new to think about.

I size him up. It doesn’t take long. A guy built like that, you’d have to be blind not to be able to size him up from about half a mile out. I’m a big guy, but one of his suits, the jacket would make a nice overcoat for me. Still, I long to try it, see if I could put a couple in his face before he tears the desk in two, jumps across the room, digs his finger into my sternum and pulls my rib cage out.

Not that I got anything to prove, but the fucker pisses me off. Way he backed up Predo that time they broke into my place and tossed me around, that made me not like him. Not that I ever did in the first place. Piece of Coalition enforcer shit that he is.

But I didn’t bring a gun. And I don’t have the stones to try it even if I was packing.

I drop the Zippo back in my pocket, take a big drag off the unlit cigarette, pull it from my mouth, blow a huge cloud of no smoke in his direction.

– Gotta rule against this?

He slits his eyes.

– Sooner or later.

– What? Sooner or later you’re gonna sprout something from the brain stem that keeps your lungs pumping?

He rises. If we were outside, if it was daytime, he’d blot out the sun.

– Sooner or later you are going to fuck up and be back on the street again. Sooner or later you won’t have Clan protection anymore. Sooner or later you’re going to be a Rogue again. And nobody will care what happens to you. Nobody will care when I pick you up by the ankles and wishbone you.