“Game?” the twisted
fellow asks, “Why Corvus, whatever can you mean?”
“Oh now don't start
with that,” Raven spits, undeterred by the approaching obstacle.
“With what?” the
figure asks
“That guileful
wordplay,” Raven spits again, “The leading questions that bring
us ever closer to your point. That brand of trickery ill fits your
irregular frame.”
“Robert is standing
by,” Curly announces to no one but himself.
“Trickery?” the
contorted man protests, “My point? You're sure you're not
mistaking me for one of my wayward off-spring?”
“They're not your
off-spring,” Raven corrects him, “And no, I'm not mistaken.
Sooner or later you'll lead our conversation to your purpose, so just
get to it then kindly step aside.”
