Flying Death
But she would be that selfish.
Also explains why she didn’t shift and try to fight back. She also reeks of at least two males and their cheap cologne.
“Welcome to the Flying Death Nina,” I say, as Missile steps back, reaches into his jeans and lights up a joint. When he passes it, I take a hit. She sits up, but Klunk’s wolf sits close and doesn’t let her stand.
“The… Flying… You’re in the Flying Death,” she mumbles, her eyes wide.
Bab Populer