Pitter-patter. Fat raindrops struck the roof tiles and the stone-paved streets, washing purplish-red clots of blood out of the cracks.
Ye Ao and Barbarossa squatted beneath the eaves of a house, watching the first rain of summer. The damp air smelled of earth and rust, and water dripping from the eaves formed curtains that blurred their view.
"This rain came just in time."
Ye Ao stretched out his rough palm to catch the stream falling from a corner of the roof. A centipede-like scar on his palm looked bluish-white in the rain.
"Another two days, and the stink of corpses would've reached the tavern."
Barbarossa whittled a piece of pine with his dagger, wood shavings scattering with the spray. He gave Ye Ao a sidelong glance but said nothing.
Something's wrong. Since when did this guy get so poetic? Is someone impersonating him... or did someone steal his account?
But the next second, the guy was back to his old self.
"Fuck! This goddamn rain's soaked my crotch!"
Ye Ao suddenly shook the water off his hand and stood up, swearing. He kicked a broken tile away from his feet and tugged at his rain-soaked collar, his face full of irritation.
"Goddammit, my legs are going to go numb if I keep squatting here!"
Barbarossa froze for a moment, then burst out laughing. He twirled the dagger in his hand and slipped it back into his belt.
"Now that's more like it! What was with the fancy talk just now? I almost thought some demon had possessed you!"
Ye Ao glanced sideways at him and grinned, showing a mouthful of white teeth.
"What? Can't I get sentimental once in a while? Do I have to be like you every day, opening my mouth just to say 'cut him down' or