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“They weren’t exactly my friends, but my colleagues from the assassination organization. In a way, they were like a family to me. It’s somewhat like the brotherhood, only we barely had any loyalty to each other. We just co-existed. The head of the family, whom I considered my godfather, was slipping away from me.” “Godfather? Is he from the mafia?” “Sort of. I wouldn’t consider him part of the mafia, but the concept is close enough.” “Then, what happened?” “Some rivals in the territory we ruled in London wanted my godfather dead. Of course, I couldn’t allow that to happen, so I took it upon myself to draw out the culprit.” “That’s how you got shot?” “That’s how I got myself shot.” Or close enough, anyway. She doesn’t need to know about the details. “What is the difference between getting yourself shot and being shot?” Her question takes me by surprise. She really focuses on the details others wouldn’t even pay attention to. “Getting oneself shot means I brought it upon myself.” “What d