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Summary
Dry Devil watched the other man with furrowed brows.
„Come on now, Jan. Don’t tell me you haven’t gotten used to seeing me almost kick the bucket. You still worried about the good old Dry Devil?“
„I’m way too old to spend precious time and strength convincing myself that I’m not worried about you,“ he said, sighed deeply and sat down on the bed feeling tired and drained. He lost his two wives, and as radically different as Hynek was from both, Jan was certain the pain wouldn’t be any lesser.
„You growing soft, eh?“ The Devil grinned.
„Would you prefer it if I grew hard?“ Žižka said with a smirk although it was apparent the Devil’s efforts to lighten the mood didn’t work on him.
„It took me damn ages to place all of these fucking pillows and sit my arse down, so you can get as hard as you’d like, but I’m staying right here,“ Devil said with a smirk, trying again to pull Jan out of melancholy. I wish we could stay right here forever, Žižka thought, staring into the half-empty cup.