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Locke set the bowl of cereal and the book down on the little table the armory was fitted with. It was a new book off the hatch’s shelves. Henry had blown through the Dostoevsky in a remarkably short time.
“Can I ask you a question, John? Seeing as were both stuck here.” Henry’s voice was as mellow as it could be, which meant there was still an unsettling strain of tension running through it.