6
One of the reasons for Avery’s irritation was that the jeans and t-shirt he wore were nearly as toasted as the pins. His normally calm brown hair was as ruffled as though he’d been through a wind tunnel, and his face was a bright red as though from a horrible sunburn.
He glared at the group. “What in all the hells is going on?”
Ruthven smiled at our ‘guest.’ “Good evening, Avery. We would like a word with you.”
“Haven’t any of you guys ever heard of asking for phone numbers?” he snapped as he adjusted his clothing. The burn marks shrank until they vanished and the wrinkles stretched to nothing. He smoothed out his hair with his other hand and the ruffled strands returned to normal.
“We don’t have time for your stupid jokes. We need to find Maeve,” Adam snapped.
Avery frowned
