234 | John W. Warner IV Tea n toast? she asked, stretching. He went over to the mirror to check on his still black eyes, tilting up the bandage that she had renewed from a med kit before going to bed. The wound was healing nicely, just not the one inside of him. All right, Hopscotch, we go. Ill make it. Finish the damn job, I mean. He turned to her, looking far, far older than his years. But dont you be surprised if I decide not to come back.