Revenge Best Served

A hand on Frenchie’s shoulder stopped him, gentler than he thought it could ever be, but firmly pinning him in place.He turned to see Izzy standing, balancing on one leg as he held onto him. He was still asking questions, slinging them like knives into the air. Questions Frenchie didn’t want to answer. Hence his attempt to flee-and-hopefully-never-talk-of-this-again.“What reason? Why do you care now? Why do you even fucking care at all?”How could Izzy’s voice come out so gently?“You saved us.”“Try again.” There was that indominable persistence Izzy had. He dug his literal and proverbial fingers in and didn’t let go — and right now, that hand was fisted in Frenchie’s coat. “If that was true, the whole crew would be in here. They’re not. It’s just you. This goes deeper than some stupid life debt,” Izzy said. “What is it?”“It’s. Um.” Frenchie blinked. “You.”Izzy blinked. ”What?”