Fasade of the heart

now chirping and only flirts of the conversation are carried to Janice by the evening wind. From this she can deduce that the man is almost sung about his fearlessness

h some relief. He still wears it short, but his crest is longer and bounces lightly as he walks up. It gives a boyishness to the strong face that plucks at her heart. When they stopped in front of her, nothing indicated the sphinx-like features that thy recognized her. She also could not notice if he was looking at her at all, because despite the twilight he was wearing sunglasses and she could not see his eyes at all. "It's Janice Davis, the vet who's going to do the shooting," Brett introduces them to each other. "Janice Davis?" Something in the deep, calm voice let a shiver run down Janice's spine. She stands dead still, grateful for the sun that is diagonally behind her and prevents thy from seeing her face too. It at least gives her a chance to get her right. "Can Janice Davis even hold a gun?" He takes her hands carelessly and looks at them with a frown. The touch of his big hands made her stiffen, but when she wanted to pull it away, his grip tightened. Then he looked over her head and mockingly asked Brett: "These little hands are too fine for such a job. It would rather suit a glamor girl or a waitress. " "Watch out, young man," Brett laughed, putting his hands in his pockets, "Jake Morgan just trusts those soft little hands to work with his beloved game." "No?" Jeremy frowned lightly, as if he did not quite understand the th