82. Words that fade away in the chaos.
Roy has always loved words and he shows it, trickling them into his speech like honey, like opium: heavy and golden, slow and ponderous and sweet.
He is a quick study in other languages as well; perhaps he cannot speak them so easily, but he can read those words. He can fathom that meaning.
Riza is foreign to him, a language unto herself, cultivated in the ringing silence after a gunshot. He watches her shoulder her rifle, aim, and fire. Her face never changes and he wonders if there is a secret door that leads into her mind, where she keeps the dictionaries that define her thoughts.