(Old Version) The Blood of the Covenant

Chapter Twenty-One: Micah

 "Fight me, you pale-ass beanpole bitch!"

"No."

"What, you scared of a girl? You scared to lose, you sexist bastard?"

"No."

"Then fight me!"

"No!"

Micah sighed to himself as Alastor and Rose went back and forth, stuck in their circular, irritating conversation. It had been going on for several minutes now. Rose taunting Alastor. Alastor giving her a curt reply. Rose challenging him to a fight. Alastor denying her. Rose taunting him. Alastor giving her a curt reply. On and on and on. Over and over.

Micah had taken a seat against the wall of the warehouse, sitting in a nice patch of grass. He plucked at it, stacking his pickings on his legs, which were stretched out before him. He already had made three stacks sitting out here, each an inch or two wide and almost as tall.

"Your pants are going to get filthy." Lian's voice sounded above him. The boy was standing to the side, watching Rose and Alastor argue in front of them.

"I don't care." Micah shrugged, pulling up a fresh clump of grass. "It's fun."

"Fun?"

"Well, maybe not fun. But you know what I mean."

"I'm afraid I don't."

"Sucks." Micah tutted.

"Don't you care about your clothes staying clean? You only have this pair and the ones you came in, right?"

"Sure. But grass isn't really all that dirty. It's just grass."

"Grass has dirt on it. Dirt is dirty."

"Really?" Micah gasped. "Dirt is dirty? I never knew!"

"Keep your sass to yourself, Micah."

"Why should I?"

"Because I'm asking nicely."

"Asking nicely doesn't work." Micah laughed. "It's a give or take world, Lian. If you want me to stop, you're going to have to give me something in return."

"Like what?" There was a hint of irritation in his voice.

"Nothing you can afford." Micah grinned up at him. "The price to pay for a sass-free Micah is far from cheap."

"Of course it isn't." Lian sighed.

There was a lull in the conversation. Neither of the two boys seemed to mind, so neither filled the silence. It wasn't true silence, after all, not with Alastor and Rose barking at each other like a pair of rabid dogs just a few paces away.

Finally, a third party stepped in. "I'll fight you, Rose," Max suggested.

"Shut up." Rose snapped at him. "I don't want to fight you. I want to fight Alastor."

"Well, you aren't going to fight me." Alastor retorted. "So give it up."

"It wouldn't be much of a fair fight anyways—" Micah started to say.

"Exactly." Alastor smugly interrupted.

Rose bristled, but Micah raised a hand and continued. "Excuse me, I wasn't finished. I was going to say it wouldn't be a fair fight, Alastor, because your hand is still screwed up from your fight with me. Rose would wreck your shit in a heartbeat."

There was a beat of silence as the bickering pair registered his words. Rose's anger died down, settling into something he recognized more as pleasure or contentment. She was satisfied with his answer. Alastor, however, was not. The tall boy filled with red-hot fury.