MAG 72 - Takeaway
The Magnus Archives
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I Sat in a Room With a Knife in My Hand.
The room was small and mostly bare, looking at the windows I guessed I was on the upper floor of the whole takeaway. A few shreds of fading sunlight were filtering in through the covered windows but most of the light in the room came from a trio of oddly textured candles. After a minute or two he swallowed whatever he had been eating in a swift, gull-ping motion like an owl consuming a mouse. He smiled a smile of both satisfaction and expectation and asked me if I was awake. The words caught in my throat. Here was this guy clearly about to kill me and carve me up for meat - what am I supposed to say?
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