A hush settled over the alley. The bartender's face was stiff, his features empty. I turned to leave, but then I felt his hand grip my shoulder.
His hoarse voice came out:
"Are you really Jevan?"
I tore his hand off my shoulder, then turned back to him. His eyes held a complicated mix of hope and doubt. It was obvious he didn't believe me, yet at the same time he desperately wanted me not to be lying.
Somehow I could feel that desire the need to cling to any thread of hope, even if it was just an illusion. I didn't know what kind of bond he'd had with the original Jevan, and I didn't want to. I'm not Jevan. I'm just a parasite that seized his body.
Not that I even wanted to. But in any case, I wasn't about to give him a false dose of hope. So I started walking away again, but he apparently wasn't going to let me leave in peace. He yanked me hard by the collar of my coat. I could easily have avoided his hand, but for some reason I didn't.
"Are you Jevan?"
