Page 68 of Devilish Debt
Zero
An annoyed huff shakes my entire frame.“I can read.”
“I didn’t say you can’t read,” argues Salay from the free-standing tub she’s stretched out in.
“You implied it pretty fucking hard.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
“I did not.”
“You totes did!”My shirtless torso leans slightly forward at the same time my hands curl around the edge of the marble granite countertop.“You basically said I can’t read anything that’s not written in code!”
“I-”
“And this shitiswritten in code!”
“I-”
“Maybe it’s not a computer code-”
“It-”
“But isdefinitelya code!And if it’s a code, I can crack it!And you know how I do that?!”Frustration flares on my face once more.“By reading it!”
“You are more frustrating to me than the fucking rain,” she complains prior to sinking herself below the surface, momentarily disappearing from sight.
She doesn’t like the rain.
I don’t like the insinuation that I don’t know my shit.
Especially when I do!
Programming is my primary language.
Procedural.
OOP.
Functional.
Scripting.
All.My.Territory.
I’m basically the human equivalent of a leopard – which in perusing my personal files explains the fondness for the pattern.
And Idon’tlike to do that.
I don’t like to dig deeper intome.
Not the old me.
The now me is pretty amazing.
I ride Ducatis, wear loud prints, and pay outrageous amounts of cash to cuddle giant anteaters.
