Lambert quashes the overwhelming urge to dig his own claws into his eyeballs, tempting as it is. It’d be less frustrating than trying to find words around all this.
“I get that we’re not popular. We keep bringing refugees to your doorstep, getting them to fight is the last thing they probably want to do. But this isn’t ... living. It’s playing house while the rest of the city is ... is freezing itself to death.” He’d been about to reach for a fire metaphor, but not exactly appropriate here. “Believe me, there’s nothing I’d love more than an army of immortals to watch my back ... but what’s pretty obvious is that there are things here even the Courts might not understand going on here. If we’re deciding what to do next, I say we go after the Ringmaster.”
He holds out his hand, palm up. “Maybe there’s something going on with the Winter Queen that needs to be fixed — a curse to break, a ghost to exorcise, an ass to kick — but I don’t know how long that’s going to take to figure out. I know you’re not used to thinking of time as a luxury, but it is. Every minute we spend twiddling our thumbs is just more time for the Huntsman to do whatever the fuck he’s planning to the Ringmaster, closer to helping Winter do whatever it wants — and then everyone loses.” He pauses. “I ran with the Hunt, before he turned us over to the Mother of Invention. Just a few hours, but long enough to know it’s a shit deal. If he’s trying to make her one of his...”
He pauses, grimacing, then goes for a more direct question again: “Are you telling us we need to go out there ourselves if we want to convince people to go along with this?”
no subject
“I get that we’re not popular. We keep bringing refugees to your doorstep, getting them to fight is the last thing they probably want to do. But this isn’t ... living. It’s playing house while the rest of the city is ... is freezing itself to death.” He’d been about to reach for a fire metaphor, but not exactly appropriate here. “Believe me, there’s nothing I’d love more than an army of immortals to watch my back ... but what’s pretty obvious is that there are things here even the Courts might not understand going on here. If we’re deciding what to do next, I say we go after the Ringmaster.”
He holds out his hand, palm up. “Maybe there’s something going on with the Winter Queen that needs to be fixed — a curse to break, a ghost to exorcise, an ass to kick — but I don’t know how long that’s going to take to figure out. I know you’re not used to thinking of time as a luxury, but it is. Every minute we spend twiddling our thumbs is just more time for the Huntsman to do whatever the fuck he’s planning to the Ringmaster, closer to helping Winter do whatever it wants — and then everyone loses.” He pauses. “I ran with the Hunt, before he turned us over to the Mother of Invention. Just a few hours, but long enough to know it’s a shit deal. If he’s trying to make her one of his...”
He pauses, grimacing, then goes for a more direct question again: “Are you telling us we need to go out there ourselves if we want to convince people to go along with this?”