Reflex steven gould7/8/2023 He sounded almost prim. "Certainly. You've taken a hostage." "It is the policy of this government not to negotiate with terrorists." "Are you still there?" The voice belonged to an unnamed official in the NSA. Perston‐Smythe introduced him as one of Cox's supervisors. I stared at the phone, my eyes wide. I was speechless and very, very angry. “It is our policy not to negotiate with terrorists." She stared at me. "You are fucking amazing. I've never seen someone so good at changing the subject." She smiled. "It's not going to work. If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. But I'm not going to be distracted again, nor fooled into talking about those idiots again." I opened my mouth, then shut it again. I hadn't really thought about it. Sure, I didn't talkĪbout the jumping, but the rest? "Well, there's not much to say. Not like those stories of growing up with four brothers." "You talk about books, you talk about plays, you talk about movies, you talk about places, you talk about food, you talk about current events. You don't talk about yourself." She raised her eyebrows. "That's what I thought. You're a good listener, Davy, and you can change the subject on a dime. You've hardly talked about yourself at all." “She brought the tea into the living room on a lacquered tray. The pot and cups were Japanese with unglazed rims. She poured.
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