The outside was a mix of faded black and rust, glossed over with flickering lightpaint that formed a snakelike, long-whiskered dragon on either side. The ashtray didn’t look like another butt would fit in it, and every time he took a corner too fast, which was always, ash tipped out and sprinkled down onto the floor mat. “What was Dao-Ming doing there?” I asked him. “I don’t know. She came with Dragan,” he said. “Oh.” That surprised me a little. Dragan had met Dao-Ming, and I knew they got along, but I didn’t expect to see them together. “So… how’s she doing?” “She’s calmed down since last night,” Vamp said, “but she’s still talking crazy. She asked Dragan for a gun.” “Maybe she’s onto something,” I said. “This could get dangerous.” “He said no. The last thing she needs is a gun.” “Not her,”
