Special Team Mychael birthday snippet

Okay, okay. I give in (and I can't resist the "puppy dog eyes of doom"). In honor of jagna18's 20th birthday, here's a tiny Team Mychael snippet. Enjoy! And BTW -- Thursday and Friday of this week is "Rob Thurman Days" here on my blog. On Thursday, I'll have samples of each of Rob's Cal Leandros books (along with the spectacularly yummy Chris McGrath covers); and then on Friday, the entire first Chapter of Roadkill, which will be in bookstores next Tuesday. There will be prizes. : )

Okay, now on to jagna18's special b-day snippet:

Mychael swept off his massive gray cloak and handed it to the uniformed man. I looked over at Mychael and my mouth fell open. I let it hang there; I had better things to do, like determine why the paladin of the Conclave Guardians was dressed like a someone you'd meet in a bad bar, dark alley, or darker highway just before he demanded that you "stand and deliver."

Mychael wore dark, rough leather from head to toe: high boots, form-fitting trousers -- extremely form fitting, and a doublet with various slits that I recognized all too well. Hiding places for dozens of small, bladed weapons. Straps from a sword harness hugged his wide shoulders. Mychael out of uniform signaled a heavy frost in hell; but what raised my eyebrows and left them there was that he looked perfectly comfortable, relaxed even. I closed my mouth, lowered my brows, and made a conscious effort to keep them that way, and decided to just let the strangeness play itself out.