No Reasonable Offer

The killer looked at Morgan, then looked around, expecting Michael to be somewhere in the background pastiche. Morgan just watched him. This would take some time to sink in. “On your fourth attempt, do you expect to do any better?” Morgan asked flatly.

“I don't see your pacifist flunky about.”

“I do not have a flunky. I have a traveling companion, but hardly a pacifist.”

“Does this 'companion' know how many lives you've taken? Wha' kinda scum you are?”

“Yes.”

The swagger meant nothing to Morgan. He knew it for the drunkenness it was, even without seeing it.

“Whatever traveling companion I have or have had are all far better than you.”

“Oh, why's that?”

“Would you take a bullet for me?”

“Pffft! No!”

“My companions are chosen for their loyalty. Not their mockery of courage. Not their alcohol-stoked violence. Not their bloodthirsty tendencies. They are competent, helpful, resourceful, and creative.”

“I don't supposhe they acktually protect you?”

When the cavalier stranger pulled a flintlock, a half-eaten apple flew across the market plaza and hit him squarely in the head. He flipped around and Morgan applied a fist to one temple. “No,” he said to the flopped body, “they just facilitate me protecting myself.”