Pietra resisted a sigh and looked up when the person spoke again, recognizing the voice of one of the delinquents. She eyed the young man a moment, taking a few seconds to remember his name. Murphy. Or at least that’s what she thought it was, keeping up with everyone was hard, especially when she really interacted with any of them.
“I’m sorry?” she said after a moment and placed her pen down. She was bewildered as to what he could want from her, generally everyone was going to the weapons room for anything pertaining to Grounders. “Can I…help you?”
Murphy stepped away from the door while Pietra frowned at
him. Her confusion was to be expected; most of the remaining sky people wanted nothing to do with the
science division. They were too busy defending Kane or preparing for the inevitable.
Murphy, however, intended to outlive most of the skaikru – and that is why he needed poison. Sure, he loved guns,
loved how powerful they made him feel,
but he did not trust them. If either of his firearms ran out of bullets, the Grounders would eat him alive. Poison,
however, would make his dull knife much deadlier. He’d be able to defend
himself without guns.
“Yeah, you can,” said Murphy. Without asking, he leaned
against Pietra’s bench and surveyed her work. There were numerous illustrations.
They were pretty, kind of. However, Pietra’s handwriting was an
incomprehensible smear. Sure, Murphy
could decipher it if he truly focused, but the larger part of his attention was
devoted to the task at hand. “Do you know what Grounders use on their
knives?”
