Dustfinger stiffened, breath catching in his throat and panic filling his chest, as the sharp point of a blade pressed against his lower back.
His gaze darted around desperately, searching for Sadie, silently pleading her to stay away, stay away, stay away. He knew, without the need even to glance over his shoulder, whose knife was digging against his spine. It could be nobody else.
"Well, Dirtyfingers. Fancy us running into one another like this."
Basta's knife circled to Dustfinger's side, following its wielder, who kept at just close enough to drive his fist under Dustfinger's ribs at a moment's notice, while still far enough away that any other customers in the bookshop would assume that they were simply having a friendly conversation.
"Why don't we step outside? I've got what I came for, and I think we could find a quieter place for the conversation we both know we need to have."
The slight smirk on his lips dropped as he pulled aside the lapel of his jacket just far enough for Dustfinger to see the pale green binding of a book pressed against his chest.
His eyes widened and snapped up from the book to meet Basta's.
"Somewhere more private, don't you think?"
Dustfinger winced as the blade pierced the fabric of his jacket.
Sadie could already be somewhere outside waiting for him. He would spare her an encounter with Basta, if at all possible. Maybe he could steer him in some direction that Sadie wouldn't be likely to look for him.
"Somewhere quieter," he agreed. "You know you've got my attention. You don't need that."
His eyes flicked pointedly downward to the knife just beneath his ribs, but Basta only used it to push him toward the door.
"I may not need it. But I like it."
