Hey there...champ, how the hell are ya?" I smiled awkwardly as Sinister stared at Anton and I with such an intense rage, I was kind of turned on.

No, Calla. Bad Calla. He is the enemy right now.

"Don't call me 'champ'." He fumed, his eyes bled anger.

"Oh, okay. Sport? Pal? Throw me a line here, because I'm quite confused."

"The fuck do you think you're doing, Calla?!" He hissed at me, though I couldn't help but notice his arm was still ...