P
Potatocat
Guest
" So odd. I have such similar dreams. Dreams of the table, and the straps, and the men. The mean, nasty men. So very odd." Sam seemed aloof for a moment. Lost in her thoughts. Suddenly York began seeing small specks of color at the edges of his vision. Simply floating and spinning in the air, and with them a soft voice. A voice that sounded as if he were not hearing it, but more thinking it. A voice not quite is own. "This one is cute." The voice and the dancing lights went as quickly as they came. 'There is something you are not telling me, isn't there? Not a lie/ No, just a part of the truth." Sam spoke quietly, "I am very good and finding truths." She nodded her head as if agreeing with herself. She did not seem aware of what had just happened within York's mind almost as if were an instinct, or natural to take a peek into his mind. As if it happened without her consent.