WHAT KIND OF CONCOTION AM I ?

The lid of the coffin opened with the same series of ominous, horror film creaks he'd used when the official had opened the lid. There was silence.

Freya's heart beat steadily. She leaned over the coffin and glared at the young man who laid as if dead, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes closed. His skin was pale porcelain and his black spiky hair with the dyed blue tips stood out starkly against the white backdrop.

"You look amazingly robust for a man who starved himself to death," She said sarcastically, mimicking the official.

"You could have blown everything with your absurd story."

Yodah's eyes snapped open dramatically. He faked an accent as he slowly sat up.

"I could use a drop of blood or two, my dear."

She smacked him over the head with her papers. "The customs official didn't believe I was twenty-five."

He flashed a cocky grin.

"You're not. You're barely eighteen, and when Kane and Doban find out what we've done, we're both going to be in more trouble than eithe