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speed was apparently more important than security. Or speed _was_ security. The adults had not told him which. He _almost_ had the feeling it was speed his great-grandmother wanted right now, not because she was running, but because she had somebody specific in her sights. She had that look she took on when she had a target.
Home. Definitely. The door shut and _now_ they were safe. The relaxation of tension in his bodyguard was more than palpable – he heard soft clicks as safeties went on firearms, and rattles as rifles went into a safer position for transit down narrow inner hallways. Bags of gear thumped down gently to the polished foyer floor.
They had just a little light, sitting there around the table, in the dark. Human eyes were spooky, shadowy, and never taking the light. Veijico’s and Lucasi’s, Antaro’s and Jegari’s, theirs all did, so you could see their eyes shimmery gold, honest and open. But with humans, one had to trust the shadows, and know their intentions were good.
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