Amanda

“Asshole!” Ridoc shouts, and I pivot to see him plow his fist into the cook’s face. “I have four uniforms, but only one fucking flight jacket, and I”—punch—“hate”—punch—“sewing!” Ridoc yanks my dagger from the cook’s hand, and the man slides down the doorframe, his eyes fluttering shut. “For fuck’s sake, you’re supposed to be the civilized isle!” He wipes my blade on the cook’s tunic, then turns and walks back toward me. “What is the wisdom in a kitchen cook attacking two trained killers?”
― Rebecca Yarros, Onyx Storm