“I don’t play nursemaid,” Callon said. His lip curled, as a memory drove a spike through his stomach. “Besides, isn’t that what she pays you for?” An irreverent smile formed. “Or do you simply like to sleep at her feet like a good dog.”
Jaen snarled, the woman gone from her fierce green eyes. She floated a hand above her knee, nails extending with a soft snicking sound.
Callon continued smiling. “Won’t matter to me none, if you torch the place. Not mine anyway.” No point being chary with Jaen. Best never to offer your throat. More fun to bait.
(Written for The Prediction. Challenge words: chary, float, torch)