Milda Page Runner

“Bloody North,” said Shev as she picked her way towards it and had a tentative drag at the ropes. “Even their bridges are shit.”

“Their men are good,” said Javre, clattering out with no fear whatsoever. “Far from subtle, but enthusiastic.”

“Great,” said Shev as she edged after, exchanging a mutually suspicious glance with a crow perched atop one of the posts. “Men. The one thing that interests me not at all.”

“You should try them.”

“I did. Once. Bloody useless. Like trying to have a conversation with someone who doesn’t even speak your language, let alone understand the topic.”

“Some are certainly more horizontally fluent than others.”

“No. Just no. The hairiness, and the lumpiness, and the great big fumbling fingers and . . . balls. I mean, balls. What’s that about? That is one singularly unattractive piece of anatomy. That is just . . . that is bad design, is what that is.”
― Joe Abercrombie, Two's Company