Sawyer's eyes narrowed to the point where they appeared shut. He grabbed the sword by its edge, making a shallow cut into his skin; the blood ran down the indent in the blade's center and congealed with the other fluids crusted onto it. "I know who you are, Garin. Don't pretend you don't know me, friend. See, whatever yo-[i]burp[/i]-u think you saw in New Haven was a fuсkin' hoax. I want out. Was hoping you or any of the other members of the peanut gallery wouldn't rear their ugly heads around here, actually, but here we are."