ZarinaKatarina: переводы

→"I haven't had the chance, and besides, you're obviously dying to."

→I practically snarled. The phone, the fucking phone! People used it the way they used to use the cat-o'-nine-tails. You had to drop everything and answer the fucking thing. And God help you if you were home and, for whatever reason, didn't answer. "But I called!" Yeah, it was convenient for you so you called. But I'm in the shit because it wasn't convenient forme to drop everything and talk toyou , on the spot, for whateveryou needed to talk about.

→"Getting back to the issue of the child," Tina said, harshing our buzz as visual, "I really think you should reconsider. He—"

→"What I'd like to know," Marc said from his chair by the fire, "is what he was doing here with a gun in the first place."

→"Duhnot ," Little Miss Myeloma said, her voice muffled through the ice pack Marc had slapped over her face, "drag meh entoh this."

→"I still consider him a friend, okay? Friends have falling-outs. Or would that be fallings-out? Anyway, we don't always get along a hundred percent of the time. Look at me and Jessica!"

→"We can't let him live," Tina said.

→"He's got a lot of personal growth ahead of him," I observed. My chest felt a lot better; had the bullet gone through me? It must have. I hoped so; I didn't want Marc or anyone else digging around in there to find it again.

→Delk stumbled up against the giant front doors, wrestled with the nineteenth-century knob, swore at the latch, got the door open, swore some more at us… and was gone.

→"You'll see me again," he promised. "With attitude and more." Then he let the gun sort of drift to his side—it was probably way too painful to put it, one-handed, back into a shoulder holster—and simply walked away. On his way through the foyer, he steadied himself once on the banister—and drew his hand away in disgust, shaking stale gum off his fingers.

→"Whatever sustains your fragile young male ego. But I think you'd be better off coming back here with an improved attitude."

→"Fuck you," he replied, sounding cool and tough, and we all pretended not to see the tears rimming his lower lashes. "You're only alive because I—because I didn't want you dead just yet."

→"Well, all right, don't make a big thing of it," I said crossly. "You know, I should be yelling at you for shooting me, but I'm going to let the whole thing go. Now we're even for everything, right?"

→At some point, Jon had climbed to his feet. The gun was still out, was swinging wildly as he tried to point at all of us at once. His other arm was bent at a nauseating angle; I wondered how he was able to get to his feet, never mind stand and keep the gun up. His face had gone the color of oatmeal. Sweat was standing out on his forehead in big drops. "Nobody sees me out! None of youfreaks come near me. I'll see myself out."

→"Well,I'm not going to," Jessica said. "Marc, you help her." "I've got patients here."

→Pretty sure.

→"No, you won't," I wheezed, because she looked positively drooley at the thought of getting Jon alone for a moment. "I'll see him out." I was pretty sure I could make the walk from here to the front door without falling down.

→"I'll see the boy out," Tina offered. She'd come in, unnoticed as usual, and was standing by the back stairs. "The boy," heh. No more of "your friend" or "the young gentleman" or "Jon" or even "Mr. Delk." Nope, the gloves were off.

→"Please," I said again, and abruptly Sinclair straightened up, leaving the other man flat on his back and waving his gun at nothing. He crossed the room and grabbed my hands, then held them out so he could stare at my chest. Marc had ripped my shirt open while I was out; luckily, it was a bra day. I looked down; no hole. Just a few trickles of dried blood.

→I could see him think about it. The gun might have been made of candy for all he noticed it, but I knew Jon's bullets were hollow points stuffed with holy water. One probably would have killed Sinclair. As usual (happy sigh), when I was concerned, he didn't give much of a shit about his personal safety.