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– What’s in it? – I don’t even touch it.

Our last conversation was heated, to say the least, and though it had been weeks since then, it was obvious A’Leta was not only hotter, but still hotter. And if there’s one thing I know about women that they’re not destined to have childbearing functions, it’s that when they’re angry they never give good news.

– A new batch of your adventures, – she squinted.

A new batch? Luna, I only spent one night with that babe, what kind of batch are we talking about?

– Don’t you want to see it?

– No, because it’s probably just another not-so-good photo montage. I guess the Shar’Darren campaign isn’t going as well as anyone in the dumpster is saying, since he’s got his claws in my dirty laundry.

A’Letha snorts loudly, pulls out an envelope and with shaking hands, tosses a pile of black and white photographs on the table.

I wouldn’t have looked at them if my attention hadn’t been drawn to the front of the house, on the threshold of which I was photographed at just the right angle, with my face well lit by the porch lantern.