"Hello there, Sabata. I hear you've been talking about me behind my back." Hel smiled, a grin with no friendliness to it, and there was a spark of anger in her eyes.
"I’ve said nothing more about you to anyone than the truth - what your plans were and how much I hate you." He wasn’t going to say much more. Just who told her he even said things about her, anyway? What little mention of her he’d made was merely about what she wished to do, what she is, how she’d lied and used him, and his hatred of her.
"Don't lie, you little brat," Hel hissed, her lips curling into a snarl. "Your words went far beyond that, didn't they? Perhaps I should jog your memory. Do the words 'less skills at her disposal than a 17-year-old-boy' ring a bell? Or maybe, 'the other Immortals must think you're pathetic'?"
Hel's eyes narrowed. "Perhaps I should remind you who taught you those skills. And maybe give you another lesson in respect."













