Wilson tilted his head, looking at Avon. "I see," he said. "You murdered your best friend."

Avon bared his teeth, like the smile of a shark. "I don't have friends."

"Obviously," Wilson said, dry as a desert. "Vila only rescued you because he hates you."

"Vila is a fool," Avon snapped.

"That makes two of you," Wilson returned. "Now sit still, and let me take a look at those wounds."