Wolfwood glances behind them. Doors have slid open, and fearful faces peek out; he gives them an encouraging wave, but they only slip back into their rooms, silent.
"You go this way," he tips his head toward the bow end of the corridor. "And I'll go up the back stairs, and we'll get them between us. If we're really lucky, they may have split up."
He doubts it. When was the last time luck was on his side?
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Wolfwood glances behind them. Doors have slid open, and fearful faces peek out; he gives them an encouraging wave, but they only slip back into their rooms, silent.
"You go this way," he tips his head toward the bow end of the corridor. "And I'll go up the back stairs, and we'll get them between us. If we're really lucky, they may have split up."
He doubts it. When was the last time luck was on his side?