Miss Nightingale curled her lips.
...
Bakins lifted the thick curtain with a finger, using the edge of his vision to peer through the gap in the cloth and the reflection on the glass down toward the street.
The street was perfectly calm.
He let the curtain fall, plunging the room back into gloom, then turned around, glanced at the others, and finally fixed his gaze on Fang Hong. "Ade, nothing unusual outside."
Fang Hong nodded.
He didn't look particularly relieved; after everything they'd been through, there was no way he'd lose his composure over something this minor.
The Big Cat People warrior was leaning against a pillar, arms folded. He was so burly that the mane atop his head was almost brushing the beam that ran across the room.
For once he wasn't fiddling with his pipe; his bright eyes simply watched this way, as though waiting for Fang Hong's decision.
