He would give it to them. After all, what better instrument could there be to bring fear to the masses than the slaughter of the fear-mongers themselves?As they walked, Alicia asked, in a tone that was curious rather than reproachful, "Does the killing of innocents ever bother you, Master?"Arthur let out a surprised laugh. "I am surprised to hear you ask such a question, child," he replied, "I would have thought that you, of all people, would realize that, among humanity, there is no such thing as innocence; only degrees of guilt."She pondered his words as they walked to the entrance of the hotel. They nodded amiably as the doorman, dressed in an extravagant colonial era uniform, threw the door wide to allow them entrance. Arthur gazed appreciatively around the luxuriously appointed lobby, from the fine crystal chandeliers to the well polished marble floor. The center of the room was filled with arrangements of plush, comfortable looking furniture while the periphery was a melange of. I shook it. Good firm grip, dry palm. "Robert Metcalf. You the Wilson of Wilson & Wilson?" I gestured toward the mug."Nope. The Wilson was my dad. I'm the other Wilson."That's when I noticed her eyes. They were almost a golden color – on the brown side of yellow gold – and set wide apart. Almost like an animal. They had kind of an almond shape. They were set in an open face that looked like it couldn't tell you a lie. That must have been useful for an attorney."Oh. Sorry to hear about your dad," I backpedaled."It's a long time back," she shrugged. "You married?"Wow. That was about as direct as I'd ever been asked. Not two minutes into the conversation and she was checking out the land for possibles."Uhm ... kinda. It's a long story. Very long story ... You?" I asked back."Kinda short cutting the chit chat, eh?" Hey, you asked first." I smiled, but internally I was making plans to head back to the counter.She laughed again. "Yeah, I guess I did. I noticed the ring and asked. It's.
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