Saturday, February 15, 2020

Chrysler Peavey

Oh, oh!

“The flash of a crimson robe out in the Digestion Yards caught Tom’s eye. The major of the pirate suburb had come down to look at his latest catch, and he was strutting along the walkways outside the cells, surrounded by his bodyguards. He was a tiny little man, stooping and hunched, a bald head and scrawny neck jutting from the cat fur collar of his gown.”

Mortal Engines, book 1, Philip Reeve

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