Desertion

Status
Not open for further replies.
Despite the dingy look of the place, it looked much better than the apartment he had in Baltimore. He wasn't a big fan of it either, probably due to the fact he was being held here by a high class agent. But what could he do? It wasn't like fighting was an option with his hands cuffed, nor was running since it would be damn near impossible to get away from Don. With a sigh, he headed over to the closest bed and sat down, a plume of smoke rising up.

"Just be quick with it," he mumbled. The deserter wasn't the type who dealt with medical situations well, it was something he pride himself from staying away from. Even with broken a hand or the occasional stab to the leg, he fixed it himself. All from a combination of fear of someone finding him and someone trying to help him. "And I'll try not to kick you away." He wasn't going to mention the fact he felt sick from the fall he had, even quick movements made his mind swell with pain, taking a worse toll on him than gash that litter his body. Just getting the wounds stitched up was good enough for him at the moment.




The thought of him biting the agent came to mind as he drew towards him, toting the first aid kit in his hand. It could offer a distraction while he tried to make another run from the agency but it was only a fantasy he could dream of. Aric doubted it would give him enough time to rush over and open the unlocked door, let alone manage to get away from Don. He was still desperate enough despite being injured but choose to try another time, one where he might have an upper hand.

Before Don got started on him, he decided to 'joke' with him, seeing it as the next best thing he could do to make the agent's life just a little but more difficult. "You know, while you're fixing up my wounds, you should also fix your roots. They're showing." It wasn't much but it was all he could on short notice.
 
He wasn't particularly listening to what Aric had to say, and was instead going through the first aid kit in search of what he needed. None of the cuts were terribly bad, but they would need disinfecting, and one of them could possibly benefit from a couple of stitches. However, his focus on treating the captive was soon brought to a sudden stop as his hair was mentioned.

Big mistake.

It was of course an extremely childish reaction, but Don chose to take advantage of the fact that he was still standing, quite pointedly stamping as hard as he could on Aric's foot. "I'll pretend you didn't say that." He lied, proceeding to pour a measure of the alcohol based disinfectant onto a cotton pad, starting on each cut, using far more than was necessary as he was of course somewhat pissed off. Still, he did what was required, just in a less than kind manner.

He also chose to stitch two of the wounds, not offering any option and hiding behind his own rationalization that this was just reducing the chance of scarring and proud flesh. Maybe he was taking it a little bit far, but he told himself that he wasn't doing anything he wouldn't have done anyway. He was just making sure Aric didn't succumb to infection before he got back to headquarters.
 
He hisses in a air as pulls back just an inch from the first touch of the alcohol on his wounds. The sudden pain to his foot was an unexpected gesture from Don, he didn't realize the agent would take so harshly to the comment. Aric was glad he didn't get anything worse than a some minor stab wounds which meant less time with the dark haired man messing with his body. He held himself as still as possible, only to flinch in pain a few times and reeled back once.

The deserter began to wonder, once the least stitch was tied off in his skin, if the agent had contacted the agency yet. Let them know of the his prize winning catch.

"So tell me, have they figured out that those idiots I'm tied up and somewhat wounded in a rundown and dingy motel? Or do you still have to tell them that?" Scooting back onto the bed and away from Don, Aric looked up and put on his best face that showcased his near nonexistent morals. Or as Aric liked to call it. 'The closest thing you'll ever get to me begging and acting good' face. "You can always let me go, they'll never know you even had me. And I'll promise not to ruin your career once I'm gone. I'll be good." His voice was hollow as he spoke towards him, lacking any emotion.
 
When it was done, Don put a little more distance between the two of them, clearly not the sort to spend time socialising, particularly not with a captive. He listened to what Aric proposed, scowling as the sentence unfolded. The idea that he might let the bastard go was simply unthinkable, and the fact that the subject had been broached only served to anger Don, and also put him on guard. Some of his captives gave in and were no trouble at all, but when they had spirit left, that could become dangerous.

"Some of us know what loyalty is." Don spat back, his expression rather dark as he glowered at the man that he felt was trying to corrupt him. "You're coming back with me, and hopefully they won't kill you. You might learn something about morals." It was unlikely, but one could always live in hope. Don knew that the people he served were rather harsh, but they could be merciful too, as he was proof of. He owed them everything, as he had been nothing but a petty criminal before his detention, and now he was a successful man, a productive citizen and he actually knew what it was to care about something so much he would die for it.

With no choice but to endure the next couple of days with Aric, the agent moved swiftly on to the practicalities of the present. "If you need a piss, now's the time to tell me. We've got to sleep." He had been up for almost an entire day after tracking and planning, followed by the long drive away from the safe house. He was eager to get some much needed shut eye, although he would need to make sure Aric was secure before he did anything else. For that purpose he had a dog lead, of all things. It was crude, but the simplest way of ensuring the two of them remained connected overnight.
 
Chuckling at the notion that the agent knew what loyalty was, he opened his mouth again. "I guess if you count as being a puppet as being loyal, go ahead and believe that. I won't stop you. And no, I don't need to piss." Aric wasn't going to change any time soon, even with threats and beatings. It was his nature to turn against anything that might help people, he was a destructive force that could take out countless lives and still see a something meant for the greater good. Compared to what he once was, he'd become paranoid and delusional and overall, unpredictable.

The deserter knew people would be after him. Someone was bound to notice that he was stolen from the safe house. Not to mention the blood smeared on the floor along with his files and drives seemed to be a dead give away. Hopefully.

He seemed dealable until the moment Don brought out the lead. A moment passed before Aric's eyes welled with a concoction of emotions that placed him somewhere in the range of searing anger and unfiltered fear. "You're kidding me right?" Glancing between Don and the lead, he back up on the bed. "I'm fine with you cuffing me and beating the living shit out me but this? This?! It's a joke. I'm not a damn mutt." Clearly he wasn't a fan of it. "How's this: you treat me like a mutt, I'll act like one." Aric bared his teeth at him, making his point clear. He wasn't quite sure what he could do to stop Don from using it on him but hopefully this threat might deter him.
 
Don had to pointedly ignore what was said, knowing in his heart that he was not a puppet and that he was worth more than anything this bastard had to offer. It was something that had been drummed into him for the last years, and although there was a lot of truth to what Aric had said, the walls the hunter had built up over the years would not allow that grain to work its way into his deeper thinking self. He was happy to live on the surface of his own psyche, refusing to delve deeper and think more critically about the work he did.

And of course, here came the obligatory offence at supposedly being treated like a dog. "Don't be such a baby. It's no different to a rope or anything else, and it won't chafe." It was a crude measure, and not terribly secure anyway, but it was a small measure that helped Don rest easy, and also allowed his prisoner to get a good nights sleep alongside him, without being chained to a radiator. This was a point he made clear to Aric, "I'll give you a choice. It's this, or the radiator. And I can promise, you'll want your arm chopped off in the morning if you go for the latter."

Don briefly turned away as he muttered, "Give me an answer when I'm back, nature calls, you imbecile." He was rather annoyed by this small battle that tended to go down pretty much every time he had a long haul prisoner to transport. He knew his methods were somewhat silly to the outsider, but his methods had been born out of necessity. Back in the day he'd had no official tools that were made for his purposes, and so he'd done whatever he could to ensure he got his prisoners back safely.
 
Aric grumbled a mass of undecipherable swears at Don once he shut the door behind him. Most of them would probably result in another injury if the agent had heard them. He was sure that anything else he'd try, anything else he'd desperately wanted to do that could get him out or at the very least sooth his rising hate for Don, would probably land with a few less fingers as threatened hours ago.

Debating over his two options, he decided for the dog lead despite it meaning he'd be close to the fool who saw himself fit for an agent. It was better than the radiators anyways. When the black haired man finally came back, he was laying down on a bed, making sure he didn't lay on his new stitches. "I don't want to be tied to that thing," he said, refusing to make eye contact with him. It was good complying for once, made things easier for both of them.

He let Don do whatever he need to with the lead, not fighting it but also not moving an inch to make him work harder for the agent. Once that was done, now it was time for the best part that came out of this whole situation: sleep. Aric assumed that the agent wanted nothing more than sleep either.
 
"Heh, you're not as stupid as I thought." Don commented, proceeding to take his jacket off, at least not going so far as removing his shirt or anything else that might have made things yet more awkward than they had to be. Instead, he simply clipped the lead onto the short links between the cuffs, proceeding to slip the handle around his wrist and taking hold of the slack. "See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" It really was rather innocuous, and it allowed them to both sleep in relative comfort, or at least, that was the intention, anyway.

Don settled himself down on the bed, leaving as much space as he could between the two of them, although unfortunately there was little room for personal space on the bed. But, this was something the agent was well used to, and so he just lay there, immediately closing his eyes and doing his best to get to sleep. He was good at getting off to sleep without too much issue, a talent that was invaluable in his line of work, although perhaps a little bit annoying as he did have a slight tendency to snore.

For one of them, at least, the night passed in one dreamless sleep, Don waking fairly early as he always did, feeling refreshed and ready for the day that lie ahead. "Time to wake up, sleepy head." He said with half a laugh, poking Aric a little as he also got rid of the supposedly humiliating lead that had kept him tethered overnight. "We'll get some breakfast, and then it's straight on to get home, and then you can finally be rid of me." Unfortunately, unbeknownst to him, that wasn't going to be possible, as already wheels were in motion that would lead to Don becoming a fugitive, just like the man he towed along beside him.
 
He moaned, not wanting to get up from the soft bed. It took a moment before he was able to sit up, it became clear that even simple tasks were now challenges due to the cuffs the gripped his wrists. He looked up at the agent and asked, "will I at least not have these stupid things on me? I get that you're all for keeping me locked down as much as you can but I'd like eat with my own hands." Aric wasn't sure if he'd do that, considering how long he'd chased after him.

At least the clothes that Don had dragged him out in from yesterday looked decent enough go in public with. Shorts and basic shirt is all he had on, not even socks. He seemed more like someone who was just about to start a morning jog, not an international criminal who murdered Don's fellow agents. Aric quickly got off the bed and proceeded to stretch to the best of his ability. It was uncomfortable but the best he could do considering his hands were literally tied behind him.

"Hey," he took a few steps over to the agent, looking over how well he pulled off bed head and roots, "is it just you who know's I'm caught?." It was a silly question but not once has he seen Don make contact with the agency (as far as he'd seen) to let them know that he was caught. "Or does the shit eating agency know I'm in trembling in your clutches like a scared child."
 
Don rolled his eyes as Aric spoke - yet again. Most of his prisoners stuck to sullen silence, terrified silence, or just the odd string of expletives. Why couldn't Aric just shut up for half a second? He was a far more bullheaded and resilient character than most he had the pleasure of dealing with, which was most certainly not a good thing in Don's book. However, he did have a good point as far as the cuffs went, loathe as Don was to admit it. He would have to loosen his bonds, if only for a short while, and would just have to hope that Aric wasn't stupid enough to make a run for it.

"I'll take them off, but if you even think about running I'll make sure you never run again." There were many ways to cripple a person for life, and none of those were pleasant, as one might expect. Add to this the fact that the agent was by no means a surgeon or a medicinal man of any repute, and the threat became that much worse, given that the delivery of such words was such that it left no room for doubt as to the genuine nature of the proposed treatment.

It was no surprise that the agent didn't let his prisoner go free immediately, instead getting himself at least marginally freshened up, though this boiled down to a splash of water on the face and a liberal coating of an odour masking body spray. Unfortunately, he didn't dare take an actual shower or anything that took more than a minute or two, as he knew that Aric could not be trusted, even when he was cuffed. He'd rather look, feel and smell a little worse for wear than lose his detainee less than a day after his capture.

After he had finished, Don proceeded to divest Aric of his handcuffs, allowing him to go and do whatever he needed to do in the bathroom unimpeded. Shortly after this, the two of them made their way out of the room, which was when Don lied to Aric for the first time. "They know I'm on my way." He had attempted to contact them, but had been unable to get through, which was something that was highly irregular. He intended to try them again soon, but already his worry was growing.

The two of them headed over the road to the unsurprisingly greasy and grimy diner that suited the area perfectly. Needless to say, Don kept within grabbing distance of the prisoner at all times, directing him to a booth where he sat on the outside of the single seat, blocking any escape, unless Aric was foolish enough to attempt to make a break for it through the window.

"Coffee?" The waitress came over to offer the two of them.

"Please. Thanks. And we'll have bacon, scrambled eggs and toast." He took the liberty of ordering for Aric, not putting it past him to order something needlessly complicated and as expensive as possible, even in a run down place like this. He wasn't going to let that happen, as was clear as the waitress went to get their food, leaving Don sipping at the bitter black coffee that was hardly enjoyable.
 
Aric was grateful for the body spray but even more so of the cuffs being gone from his wrists. The first thing he did was to stretch out his arms followed by cracking each and every single knuckle. This wasn't done to annoy Don, he only did it because it felt as if his joints were made of cooling wax. Ot felt good to move freely again, he couldn't help but smile a little at it. The deserter shrugged off the agent's threat, knowing full well he wasn't kidding. What were the chances he'd actually be able to get away anyways? The agency had sent their best and he wasn't stupid enough to think he could out smart them. It was pointless to even mention it to him.

Of course he was able to think of other ways to get away from Don but why would he even try? It would probably end up with a knife lodged deep into his spinal cord and no one wants that.

In the diner that looked like it needed to be closed for who knows how many health violation, he quietly ate his food. Not a single sarcastic sentence, let alone a single word come out of Aric's mouth. It seemed odd but it only because he didn't want to draw attention to them. The greasy meal went over smoothly; he ate his food, didn't mock Don or the agency for once, and kept to himself.

Now Aric would have to deal with the cuffs again. He dreaded it, he knew it would be coming as soon as they made it back to motel. It wasn't like he could fight it, the most he could was verbally protest it.
 
The two of them ate their meals in silence, and unfortunately it could hardly be described as companionable. It was probable that the waitress had noticed the rather tense feeling in the air around the two men, and so she sensibly stayed well away until Don called for the cheque. Even then she was slightly clipped in her speech, just a little nervous of the two rugged men that had inexplicably walked in this morning. Still, at least they tipped well, and that was the main thing for any waitress.

Don herded his mark back into the hotel, somewhere where he could discreetly pop the handcuffs back on and also make a phone call in relative safety. He shut the door behind him, proceeding to lean on it as he made the call, impatiently holding the phone up to his ear as he waited for the ringing to end. Normally they answered pretty much immediately, but today it rang twice before cutting out. He tried again, doing so three times before his fist hit the surprisingly sturdy door.

"Fuck!" He snapped at no one in particular, clearly in something of a bad mood, as this was seriously messing up his day. Not only was it an inconvenience, but it was also rather concerning, as he was quite sure that his calls were being rejected. Why that would be, he had no idea, as he was in the middle of an important case, and he couldn't think of anything that would be more important than answering the phone to an agent out in the field. He also doubted that the facility had been decimated, as the phonelines were still very much working, which meant for some reason they just didn't want to deal with him. What was up with that?

Scrubbing at the stubble on his chin, Don walked towards Aric, digging in his meagre supplies for the handcuffs he'd thrown in the satchel, "Come on, give me your hands." He'd let him have them in front of him this time, as they were going to be in the car for an obscene length of time now, and he doubted anyone could cope with their hands stuck behind their back for all that time. "And don't look at me like that." Whether it was insolence or not, that was what Don saw, and it was clear in his tone that he was in no mood for any dissent.
 
He went and sat on the edge of the bed as soon as he stepped through the door, still a tad warm from when they were sleeping in it. Aric's hazel eyes watched over the man's actions; from the pounding of the phone's keys to his clentched hands. Quickly, he was able to pick up that he was going to be in for rough treatment just by Don's reaction.

With the situation quickly becoming tense for the both of them, it still wasn't going to stop Aric from being his thick headed self. He moved his hands away from Don's reach and took a single step back. "Come on now, I haven't done you too much harm. Can't we just say no to them for once?" With a forced smile, it was clear to see Aric wasn't going to give up the freedom the agent gave him unwillingly.

"Anyways, if trouble stirs up I can help, doesn't that sound like a win win?" Any trouble would be caused by him anyways, he just hated the cold metal that cut into his skin and wanted out. "Or am I really going to have to wear those things again," Aric grumbled at the agent.
 
"No." Don was at least clear in what he felt, refusing to give even an inch than he wanted to. Some men might have felt it prudent to keep a prisoner happy and at least somewhat on side during such a long traversal across country. However, Don was not a man to compromise, and so he insisted that the handcuffs went on. They were at least the newer type, not so thin and easily damaging, but they were less than comfortable at the best of times, let alone when trying to live in them.

Rather than go straight for sheer force, Don did at least give Aric a chance to do what he was told, muttering grumpily, "You have one chance. Behave and let me put them on, or I'll do it anyway, and you'll have your hands behind your back for the entire journey." He probably wouldn't go quite that far, as he wasn't necessarily a cruel man, even if he was rather tough. But, he wouldn't make Aric spend the whole journey in pain, and would make sure to pull over after an hour or two in order to give him a chance to redeem himself.

Once he'd given the prisoner just a moment to make a decision, Don advanced once again, cuffs open and ready to ensnare the unsuspecting wrists. "Time to make your decision. It'll be interesting to see how smart you actually are." He had of course been subjected to many examples of the wiliness of his prey, and he had certainly displayed some level of intelligence, but this was where it really mattered now.
 
He mumbled a few words, rubbing his eyes before glancing at the cuffs. "I hate you," Aric huffed, offering his wrists to the agent; Don could see his bony hands that were dirty and scarred more than hands should be. He only gave in because of the insult to his intelligence. Not because of fear or weakness, but because the agent suggested that he was dumb which to Aric, was worse than getting captured.

The metal against his skin wasn't too bad once Don clicked the cuffs in place. It was better than them being behind his back, hopefully it'll hurt a lot less too. He brought his hands up to scratch his neck, right along the edges of his tattoo. "Thanks for putting them on in the front this time," he said, "makes things a lot easier." At least we wasn't fighting it, that was probably the least Don could ask for. Though the back talk and sass didn't seem like they'd go away no matter how many threats were posed.
 
Don just rolled his eyes, the petty comment not even scratching his thick skin as he was well used to being told on a regular basis that his mother was a whore and he was a pig fucking neanderthal. It was all just part of the job, and certainly character building, not to mention just another way to push people like Don into becoming nothing more than volatile sociopaths. They had to be hard and unfeeling, so when the time came to step away from their jobs and into civilian life, it wasn't uncommon for people like this very agent to become criminals or just commit suicide out of desperation.

"Yeah, I'm a frigging saint." Don muttered, running a hand through his dark hair as he straightened, more than ready to get out on the road. "Come on, time to hit the road." He once again shepherded his captive outside, opening the car door for him and proceeding to take his own seat, starting the car without even a thought.

They would drive until lunch, and might proceed even further if the going was good. "So, here's how it's going to go. I'm going to make a few phone calls, and you're going to be quiet. Okay?" Don wasn't certain what he'd do if he wasn't listened to, but for now he just forged ahead with the phone calls.

---

"Motherfucker!" He'd been trying for the past half hour, and still no one was answering, and he was about done with attempting it. "Fucking hell...what the fuck is going on?" There was no way he was going to keep from swearing now, as he was finished. There would be no more phone calls, and unfortunately Aric would probably bear the brunt of Don's growing frustration.
 
Aric leaned back against the leather chair, feeling it's smooth material against his head as he turns to watch the agent's ever growing frustrations. He'd seen things similar with this with old agents he'd run by but this was different, mainly because he wasn't the cause of it. He wasn't sure what was going on, normally the agency responded in was way or another. With a harsh message full of anger, calm words stringed together to tell an ominous message, a single ring of the phone followed by static, or most commonly, a bullet to the head.

The situation begged for him to mock Don with a middle finger and a cackle at his misfortune but that would only end in pain and a way for Don to release his anger. Something that he'd rather not bear. He kept quiet, a smirk slowly growing on his face with each and every ring. It was a beautiful sound to him. Aric still wondered what exactly was going on but it wouldn't get him anywhere if he asked the agent, he didn't know either.

"Give it up, they're doing what they do. Destroying lives and this is just a guess, but I think your fucked." His voice was calm yet the hint of sarcasm remained.

Don could barely see the deserter's tattoo from his angle, twisted in in the folds of his skin as he stared at him. Aric tried to hide his smirk, hoping he won't get it slapped off his face yet it was hard. "Do you see now," he hissed, leaning closer to the dark haired man, "why the agency is bad? They're fucking with you in some way and I know it." Even still, his voice remained calm. It was unsettling, mocking in a way. "And you know it too."
 
Don did his best to ignore the constant sniping of Aric, knowing that this was going to continue as long as he was unable to contact his superiors. "You're the one who's fucked. If I can't contact them, you're stuck with me, and I am more than happy to make your life hell until that point." He had no desire to be weak, and he would not allow that to happen. He was in a shitty situation, but he still intended to do his job.

Another hour passed by, and Don just drove along the interstate at a steady and relentless speed, shutting down a little as he tried to think about what was going on. However, this all changed as his phone suddenly rang, almost causing a somewhat startled Don to swerve off the road as he had ccompletely forgotten that noise was possible.

"Don. I've only got a second. Don't come back."

"James, what the hell is going-" He was swiftly interrupted by the man on the end of the phone.

"Shut up. You're in big trouble, I don't know the details, but someone has it in for you, they're going to arrest you the second you arrive. I'll call when I can."

Before any reply could be made, the phone was cut off, leaving a somewhat stunned man easing his foot off the pedal, the car drifting to the side of the road as he knew this was not the time to be driving.

"I'm totally fucked." He muttered, admitting what he had denied until his friend and colleague had risked his own skin to warn him of what was going on. He sat in silence for some time, head resting on the steering wheel as he saw no point in maintaining a facade, given the conversation that had just transpired. Even with only one half of it, it was obvious that it was a pretty terrible situation.

Finally, the man who was perhaps a former agent, turned to his captive, "It looks like you're stuck with me for a while. We'll find the nearest hotel and hole up in there for a while." He also intended to withdraw everything from his bank account, and from there he would just have to see what happened.
 
Aric smirked at the agent, his tongue hiding behind his sharp teeth, holding back mocking words. Almost did he utter the words I told you so but they didn't need to be said, they both knew it anyways by now. He leaned back into the seat, wondering how Don would get himself out of this. From what he knew, agents don't tend to make it away from the agency in the long run. You can't run forever, you can't hide forever, you can't fight forever, you can't win. He knew this, he was a prime example of not being able to win against the agency.

He sucked in a deep breath of air. "Listen, I like your plan but before we get onto the whole 'let's run away and hope to god we make it' plan, I suggest we get rid of the car first chance we get. I don't trust anything that from them that follows us anywhere."

Deep down, he was terrified but tried not to show it. The deserter could feel the gripping sensation in his throat and the sensation that fear had lodged itself in every single vein. He was used to it but it didn't stop him from hating it. If the agency was after Don, that'd mean they'd be after him as well; he'd be a goner if the agent couldn't solve this mess. Aric wanted to be free from their grip and that could only happen if the man sitting next to him can fix it.

"I know how to steal cars pretty easily, so that shouldn't be an issue. I doubt the agency teaches things like that anyways but maybe you can learn once you're back in their clutches." The sarcasm added didn't help their situation, but at least it made him feel a little less scared for a moment.
 
As much as he hated to admit it, Don knew that he was beginning to panic a little bit. This was so far beyond the realms of possibility that he had even begun to consider, and he was certain that if he was going to survive this madness, he was going to need a little bit of help. Annoyingly, it seemed that it was going to be coming from Aric, but he supposed he would have to take whatever he was given, or else let pride come before what would probably be a fall he would never recover from.

"Fine. We'll ditch the car." Don muttered, although he was somewhat grumpy about having to get rid of his beloved vehicle. It really wasn't anything special, but he had been driving it back and forth across the country for a fair few years now, and had developed an odd sort of relationship with it. However, practicality had to come well before sentiment, and so he vowed to leave the car parked up somewhere, never to be seen again.

As he drove, trying to find a good place to stop, he was formulating the beginnings of a plan. "Aric, do you know anyone that could encrypt a phone?" He asked, knowing that he was also going to have to get rid of that, but also not particularly wanting to leave himself unable to contact James, who would likely be the only hope of staying ahead of whatever dogs that would inevitably sent to find him.

When they reached the outskirts of a fairly large town, Don started looking for a reasonable looking hotel, wanting to find one that would also have an ATM. The search didn't take too long, and soon the car was parked at the back, and the dark haired agent who refused to admit that he was a former agent spoke with a growl, "Try to run, and I will shoot you down." It was a threat that would brook no argument, spoken just before Don released his prisoner from his cuffs. "Come on."

Without further ado, Don first grabbed two duffel bags from the rear seat of the car, then headed to the ATM, where he proceeded to withdraw every scrap of money from his personal and business expenses accounts, happy to see that he would have a few months to live without resorting to theft. If he was particularly frugal they could have even longer, but he planned for the worst case scenario, as it was always sensible to do so.

Dragging Aric along with him, he went to the reception, booking a room for three nights and also asking with a charming smile, "Could I use your phone for a second? I let mine die." The girl obliged, and soon James was on the other end of the phone, though Don didn't give him a chance to speak.

"We're staying here for a few days, I'll contact you again when I've had a chance to think about this." And that was it. A slightly confused James was met with silence as his good friend hung up.

"Aric, it's time for you to prove your worth." Don said as they left the office, room key in hand, not that he had any intention of using it. "Pick a car and let's get the fuck out of here." Spoken as he lit another cigarette, apparently feeling the need to smoke like a chimney as the stress was piled on seemingly without end.
 
Status
Not open for further replies.
Top Bottom
Back