Where does a teleporter go when he has no reason to be clever? Straight at you. Every time.
I let him hit me one more time, just to be sure. Then I got up, looked at him, and smiled.
He slowed down. Stopped a few feet away, reading me the way you read something that wasn't where you left it.
"Told you I was paying you a visit," he said, walking now instead of launching.
"That was a mistake, Mute."
I started toward him, closing the distance myself. His corridor, his rules, his advantage. None of it mattered anymore and we were both just beginning to understand that.
He laughed. "Wow. The outsider grew a pair. You think I'm a zombie?"
"I'll give you one chance to walk away clean."
"You're a fool," he said, something shifting behind his eyes. "I was actually going to spare you. Then you put your hands on me in the hall in front of everyone."
"This isn't about the hall." I kept my voice level, kept walking. "It's about Mable. Bro to bro. Real men don't fight over girls."
