✥ ||-  Ryan watched with a strange glint in his eyes as Gavin spat out the words, his mouth gleaming an ugly red. Their fight over something so petty–rights to drive the new aircraft–had somehow taken a darker turn. Ryan’s split lip was a mark of their scuffle. And now he had brandished a knife, about as long as his forearm.

Ryan chuckled. “Are you sure, now?” He expertly flipped the knife in his hands. “Giving permission doesn’t make it go any easier.”