Started over from zero.
The room went silent right about the time Jessia's lip split open.
Quickhands approached the ledge very carefully. About a foot away from the drop, his courage faltered and he approached the cliff face in a squat, his hands firmly planted on the ground to help his balance.
A redhead. Redheads always meant trouble.
Anthemone wrenched her bike to a stop on the corner of 13th and Martindale to listen to the voice inside her head.
Zharouj undid the last of the laces on his dress and slid it off with a tense look at the old woman sitting in the cell with him.
Meanwhile, in another part of Chicago...