Zero History

couldn’t identify at all. “I’m not supposed to let you out of my sight. Literally. That was
what he said.”
“Who?” asked Milgrim, in his own voice.
“Garreth.” She was wearing her armored pants, low on her hips as she sat on one of
Bigend’s elegant chairs, and a tight T-shirt, white, that said RUDGE at the top of a round black
emblem, the size of a dinner plate, and COVENTRY at the bottom. Between these names was a
red heraldic hand, open and upright, its palm presented as if to warn anyone off the small
but prominent breasts behind it.
“If it’s all right with you,” said Milgrim.
“I suggested it, didn’t I?”