"I'm sorry to hear that."
"How do you feel?"
"Fine, but my head aches a little."
"Sorry," Maota said.
"For what?"
"For hitting you. Pain is not for gods like you."
Michaelson relaxed somewhat. "What kind of man are you? First you try to break my skull, then you apologize."
"I abhor pain. I should have killed you outright."
He thought about that for a moment, eyeing the weapon.
It looked in good working order. Slim and shiny and innocent, it looked like a glorified African blowgun. But he was not deceived by its appearance. It was a deadly weapon.