Richard keeps looking at me for too long.
The factory works around him. Vials washed, caps sealed, amber mixture running through the tubes, Maela noting every loss on the clipboard as if recording a small crime. Each scratch of pencil on paper makes a Drowned shrink his shoulders a little.
I glance at Jori and catch him trying to pretend he isn't listening. His hands have slowed down on the sealing table.
Richard is still pale. His eyes quickly scanning me to see if anything he looks at is a lie
"You're a monster," he says.
I try to hold it back.
I can't.
The smile comes before the caution. "Me?"
Richard points at the finished crates with two fingers. "You pay above the government, lock the price to stop gouging on resale, leave margin for the merchant, keep cost low, and still turn the whole thing into a consumption habit. That isn't charity. It's a siege."
"A siege usually comes with a catapult…"
"You built one out of little bottles."
