"What's your logic?"
âMy logic is the truth. My logic is that we are the overmen, waiting for our throne to sit upon. My logic is that we should come out of this hiding.â
âWonderful,â he said.Â
He clapped Arthur on the shoulders. He was so old now, Arthur was. His life ingrained on his face like some noble symbol. A spark of envy hit Adam, although he would never admit that either. Heâd never want to show what life was to him.Â
 âAnd of course, there will be no attempts on anyoneâs life, with honor or without. Weâre going to come together and for at least a night, pretend itâs better days.â
Arthur did want to see Angela then. Cautiously noted.Â
âIâll be looking forward to it.â
The gesture was a friendly one but not welcome. He wanted to move back from him. He wanted to take back his acceptance. But better days, that drew him. A weak point. That small point that still existed that missed the times when things were better, less cold and empty. Sometimes he felt hollow. But power was a lonely thing to have. And he chose power, always, didnât he? Over everything.
âWhere are we going to relive our better days, old friend? At a restaurant or someoneâs home? And who else should be joining us?â









