Page 193 of Immune

“You prefer we left him outside?” Fletcher pushes, voice hard.

Hale says nothing, and neither does Fletcher. The air between them grows tense, and I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes. Men and their invisible measuring tapes. Honestly, if there weren’t so many people around actively deciding whether or not to shoot us, I’d smack Fletcher and tell him to get his shit together.

Valeria cuts in instead. “Debrief inside. Not in the courtyard.”

Hale looks at her, then back at us. “Weapons surrendered at med check.”

“No,” I say, sounding very much like a parrot.

Every gaze snaps to me.

Oops.

Wait. Actually, no. Not oops, because I’m right.

Hale’s brows lower. “No?”

“You want my knife,” I say. “You’ll have to earn that privilege.”

Ewan makes a small sound at the back of his throat. “Oh, lush. We’re doing diplomacy with knives.”

Hale looks completely unimpressed. “Weapons are stored and returned after clearance.”

“That sentence has done very little to improve my mood,” I tell him.

Fletcher shifts closer then, voice low enough for me but not private. “Information, Kota. If we refuse everything, theykeep us outside or they’ll put us down. If we hand over primary weapons, we keep the hidden ones.”

Valeria hears him, and so does Hale, because Fletcher isn’t stupid enough to pretend people with guns are deaf.

Hale’s mouth flattens. “Hidden weapons are found during medical.”

I stare at him.

He stares back.

Then I smile under my bandana where he can’t see it before I mutter, “Good luck.”

Ewan looks up at the sky. “I’d like it noted and written in permanent marker for the record that I admire the commitment while simultaneously fearing the consequences.”

Valeria sighs. “Primary weapons. Now. Secondary blades declared. Anything found undeclared gets you locked down.”

Locked down.

My stomach turns hard enough that it actually cramps. Fletcher’s eyes cut to me, not with an order, but a question.

Can you live with that for five minutes?

I hate that I understand it, and I hate more that the answer might be yes.

Slowly, I pull the gun from my hip. One of the guards tenses, so I hold it by two fingers and set it on the metal table they drag over. Then one knife. Not the other. Just one.

Fletcher sets down his rifle and sidearm, then declares two blades. Kaito moves like every step is flooding him with pain, surrendering weapons with controlled precision. Xeon places his knives down silently. Ewan unloads enough metal from his body that one of the guards mutters, “Jesus.”

Ewan gives him a tired smile. “I like to accessorize. Makes me feel pretty.”

No one laughs.

Pussies.