The memory of Bunny laying there on the cream-colored carpet came to mind. The bite of the pistol grip digging into his hand. The rage that clouded his vision as he walked up to her and put a bullet between her eyes.
The scene faded, but the shaking rage he felt was still there. DB closed his eyes and take a couple of cleaning breathes to clear his mind. After 30 seconds, he opened his eyes and swore. “Frag!”
“Still here.” Bunny smiled. She ran her hand through her hair. “Well, in a sense.”
“No.” He said.
“Denial,” she sounded amused. “I like it.”
She stepped closer to DB. “Good luck with that.”
DB away and went to the bar. He poured himself a whiskey. She was dead, damn it. He had shot her himself.
(Make a banishing check)
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