Q:
“What are they going to do after that?” I asked, watching her carefully.
She walked to a nearby wall and leaned against the corner, her hair still stringing behind her, binding Old Man Winter, who stood, stoic and silent, watching us talk. “Take over the world? Give each other facials and perms?” She gestured to her long knot of hair. “Which, in my case, would be an expensive proposition. Hell if I know.” She looked to Winter. “What about you? Do you know?”
“I know it is nothing good,” Winter said in his low, slow timbre. “One does not start a plan by wiping out all of metakind and end with something benevolent, such as a benefit to raise money for the American Red Cross.”
(c)