Rocky rudely shooed away the bewildered bedside little priest, and then sat alone on the bed, gnashing his teeth.
That damn Hand Eye... no, that damn Ulu!
This time, it's one thing not to play cards, but not involving him in the trade, openly disregarding his stuff, and not even asking what his information card is, that's too damn much!
What do they take me for?! An old fool who's been used up?! Everyone's got something, but not me?!
In an instant, past bad memories surged up again, making Rocky grit his teeth with more pain.
Setting aside the emotional dissatisfaction, what Rocky found even harder to accept was gaining nothing from this trade. It's like being implicitly excluded from hunting the "Tongue," and that's the key issue.
Rocky turned over and got out of bed, walked to the door, and gazed into the distance, but the thick fog made it impossible to see anything.
