DROP THIRTY-EIGHT
“Troy,” the lion-man growled, yes, growled and sat on the table next to them, unbuttoning his jacket.
Hector blinked and looked him up and down. He was a tall and powerful man, at Canvas’ level, and he was dressed in what was certainly a 5000 euro suit, if not more. And he looked like a lion. It was clearly augmentations, but they were of the expensive kind. Hair in a blond-orange mane, green eyes that looked animal-like, but they weren’t vertical slits, and patches of hair on his fingers.
“Um…” Hector was at a loss for words. “How am I supposed to call you? Lion-man?”
“Close. I’m Leontarius,” he said, looking smug. The girls around him went towards the locker-room. One stayed, and Hector could swear she looked familiar. She had a crooked spine that made her walk weir
