His arm was stronger than before, healing quickly, as if his body knew it had no choice. His muscles all were sore—he wore his pain like a tight-fitting bodysuit—but he also felt quick and lithe and ready for a physical challenge. During his short time on the run, his whole sense of self had somehow shifted. Where once he relied solely on his wiles and wits, now he also felt physically ready to protect himself, like an athlete or a bruiser. And though he was neither, he still believed that in the coming hours his muscle, his nerve, some instinctual physicality would play its part in saving him. When he was fully dressed, he took hold of his raincoat and headed down the stairs. It was time to leave. After the fight with Jenny and her notice of eviction, there wasn’t much chance of staying, but he also knew that every moment he was in that house, the danger to Jenny and the boy was growing. Still, there was one thing more to talk over with his former lover. Palsgraf ran out of the kitchen to greet him, the dog’s hind legs pumping as his tail wagged eagerly, and then led Scrbacek back to where Jenny was waiting, her hand wrapped around a bottle of beer.
