Getting Ivan to talk was like trying to crush coal into a diamond. Coal will become a diamond with enough pressure, but you can’t get that kind of pressure with your hand. And while I was glad the guy had accepted help from Henrik and me, he’s not making this easy. We’ve been talking at him. Yes, I said at him. I couldn’t say with him because that would imply that we had been having a conversation for like an hour. “Okay, big guy. Let’s see what you’ve picked up.” I sighed, rubbing my forehead. “How many older sisters do we have?” I started with an easy one. “Five.” It was the right answer but the fact he didn’t elaborate and just said the one fucking word was grinding my gears. “Right. So, tell us our sisters’ names, mates, packs, and ranks. It’s not a guarantee they’ll all be brought up during dinner conversation, but you never know when one of them might pop up in conversation.” Henrik encouraged. “Is this necessary?” Ivan asked. “Look, dude, we get it. You’re not a big talker.
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