Debbie had come over to my place one night to cry on my shoulder. The prom was coming up and she didn't have a date because she was so unattractive. W...ll, she kind of was, but it was all superficial. She still had some baby fat, she had braces, and no one had ever taught her anything about wearing the right makeup. Added to all that her hair was all wrong for her facial structure. I pooh-poohed the 'unattractive' bit, told her she was very desirable, and that the right guy just hadn't shown up. And I was still aching from the experience. The external bruising and scratches were gone. The stitches in my arse, back, left shoulder, right thigh, chin, and over my left eye were all out and the cuts healing so nicely I would probably not have many scars from the fight. Karl Waldensee, the monk sent from the Order (read: shadowy religious organization founded to battle the world's monsters) to watch over me had cleaned up everything in Belfast and, thanks to my foster father Eoin Spencer, I. More

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