#and holliday really conveyed how hurt robin is

[marrissacooper]

‘What?’

‘“What?”‘ she repeated. ‘Fucking “what?”‘

Robin swore far less often than Strike did. The damp night air, which felt icy on Strike’s sweaty face, was rapidly sobering him up. Robin appeared to be angry: angrier, in fact, than he’d ever seen her. But drink was still slowing his reactions, and nothing better occured to him than to repeat,

‘What?’

‘You arrive late,’ she said, ‘because of course you do, because when have you ever shown me the common fucking courtesy of turning up on time —’

TROUBLED BLOOD, Chapter 41