Track Ops: 'Reflection'

He hated her being right. Oh, how he hated her being so prissy and perfect and right all the damned time. It seemed as if Marce had forgotten how stubborn and naive women could be apart from vulnerable. he spent most of his time trying to save them than he did trying to get to know them. That was still a dangerous thing to do. Getting close to a woman who was potentially dangerous? Marce had kept his distance, though some managed to sneak there way into his personal thoughts and love life, despite all of his inner warnings, Marce Jove was still a man. He was capable of loving, affection, and other things he could have given to those women. The world. Everything they ever wanted. Marce took one look at Ace and gripped the wheel while taking a sharp left turn

"You don't have to offer anything to me to say you're not being sneaky. You won't even tell me your real name! How am I supposed to know that everything you tell me about...about that would be true? You could be leaving some parts out for all I know."he said, not trying at all to keep the anger out of his mouth. Ace was provoking him in more ways than one. She was still being right but she was being right in his car on the way to his house. Marce kept his white knuckled grip on the wheel and managed to bite his tongue for a few minutes. The two of them had successfully passed the hospital and a string of restaurants and fast food business as well. He didn't look at them at all, keeping his eyes steadily on the road ahead of him.

"There's food at the house. I usually don't cook this late at night, but since we have a lot of discussing to do, I don't see why not." His voice was softer than it was before and also wasn't forced to be that way. He was done with the arguments and the bickering for the time being. His silence was his unintentional way of apologizing for being...what did she call it?

"A hardass, huh?"he chuckled, wheeling the beautiful Crown Vic into the Decatur Elms subdivision, only a few blocks away from, where he had first found Ace laying at the bottom of the staircase. His house didn't stick out as much as the others did. It was a simple double floored house with a graden that wasn't anything fantastic. He pressed a button above his head that activated the loud, roaring opening of his garage door. The sound seemed to have awaken the entire neighborhood. Marce flinched, just knowning he was being paranoid.

Marce Jove. Paranoid. So, pigs did fly.
 
Silent for a few minutes, she actually considered what he said. Of course he was right. He couldn't just say something that was completely stupid and wrong, oh no. Instead, he had to go and point out something obvious and right that she hadn't really considered because she didn't care how he viewed things. She sighed, wondering why her real name was so damned important to him. If she wanted to leave things out, then she wouldn't have offered to tell him every little detail. Apparently he thought she was far sneakier than she even gave herself credit for - and that was a lot. She frowned a bit and chewed her lower lip thoughtfully, watching businesses flash by as he spoke of discussing and cooking. He didn't sound as righteous anymore, which was nice.


"Yeah, a hardass. A pretend hardass, might I add," she retorted, though she was smiling a little bit. She watched the door go up, silent as they pulled in until the engine was cut. Pulling her bag up into her lap, she paused for a moment instead of getting out.


"Okay. I'll tell you part of my real name. I'm not going to tell you the whole thing, and not just because I don't want you digging around. There's more to it than that," she said, eying him a bit as she wondered what he'd say. There was no doubt he was going to try and dig stuff up on her anyway, but she knew that without her full name he'd have nowhere to go. She wasn't in any sort of system and she looked completely different than any picture taken of her since she hadn't been in front of a camera for over ten years.
 
You act as if I am going to turn you into the authorities with a click of my ruby red slippers. If giving me your full name is such a problem then I am wasting my time with you. Marce Bernard Jove. Born on July 28th, 1986. I don't know tall I am or how much I way because it keeps changing constantly. I work for the Bureau of American Defense, as you would probably know, and my job is to take down any threats in or outside the States. But you can relax your little head. I don't consider you as a threat. Just a problem."

The entire while, he didn't bother to help her lug her bag into the door to his house which they had gotten to from the garage. Out of the darkness and into the darkness, Marce fumbled around on the left wall for the light switch. He had done this many times before to the point where he wondered if he would never know the position of that thing. His fingers eventually flew over a smooth plate, eventually finding the tiny rectangular prism like switch, before turning the light on. Apparently he was in the dark for too long. The light blasted in his eyes much like the taser had in the hands of that Merenzo, so much so, that his muscles had suddenly gotten tense. He dashed one look at Ace's calm expression before his shoulders finally hunched down to their normal length.

"Kitchen. Dining room is straight ahead. Living room is to the right. Bathrooms down the hall. Don't worry about upstairs yet. I'll have your room prepared after we eat. So make yourself at...." He hesitated before walking away from her, going straight to the cabinets. "Go in the Living Room." Marce was so used to being kind, polite, and decent when he had a girl in his home. Women didn't like snarky men who didn't offer them anything, especially if they made the women feel like an uncomfortable guess. Bryson called it being a sap. Marce called it manners and being a gentleman. He just didn't know if Ace, or whatever the fuck her name was, deserved it.
 
Ace said nothing at first, not mentioning that she already knew his first name and his birthday. There was no point in saying it. She knew that it was only fair play that she told him her name and maybe even her birthday too, but it wasn't the fear of him turning her in that was keeping her quiet right now. Frowning to herself, she followed him inside and glanced around as he pointed out the different rooms. It was a pretty nice place - better than the bachelor pad full of roomies that she had half been expecting. She rolled her eyes at his command to go in the living room but obeyed anyway since she didn't have anywhere else she'd rather go yet.


"My birthday is August 17th, 1989. I am 5'6" tall and the last time I weighed myself I was hovering around 135, but that was quite a while ago and I like to munch on peanut butter so it's probably gone up by now," she said after a few minutes, kneeling on the couch with her arms resting on the back as she watched him in the kitchen, her chin cradled in one palm. Tapping her cheek for a moment, she finally sighed and continued.


"My name is Grace. So, I didn't really lie. Ace has been my nickname for over ten years and I don't answer to Grace. If you want more than that, you're either going to have to get me drunk or start begging on your knees."
 
Marce took in everything she said while she made her way to the living room. He had told himself to follow her and make sure she didn't take too much of an interest in the things he had in his living room. Of course, he wasn't one of those men that hung baby pictures of himself everywhere, family portraits, or old relationship relics around so people could poke and prod and ask uncomfortable questions. In a way, he was kind of like Ace. Or Grace now, he assumed.

"I have water."he said before wheeling himself away from her and to his kitchen instead. She found the living room okay and didnt look like she needed any help picking a seat or anything. Marce stood true to his words, making his way to the refrigerator. The moment he opened it, a cold blast of air tickled the hairs on his forearms. Everything in the kitchen turned into snow in seconds flat, the hum of a helicopter clearly audible in his ears. Marce knew he was hallucinating, going deep into his memory of Kelly's rescue. They came here in there in bits and pieces, even when he was in mid conversation. Strange enough, the thought of rescuing her was not reliving him...

It was haunting him.

"So...You like sandwiches?" he called out from the base of the kitchen, staring into his refrigerator blankly. As much as he didn't want to admit, and he really didn't want to admit it, Ace's company was helping him in a way. Her being there was giving him something to look forward to. It gave him the sense that he didn't fail. Actually he achieved more than he set out to! Not only did he bring back the Senator's daughter (nearing death or not), but he had also caught the person that was...calling the shots? Is that what she was doing. Marce's blue eyes darted towards the empty space leading off to the opposite room, waiting for her response.
 
"So does that mean you're going to start begging on your knees now?" she quipped as he mentioned that he had water. She had a teasing smile on her lips that she kept to herself, knowing that he wouldn't bother to look at her. Her mind started to wander to everything that had happened in the past two days. She lost most of her equipment because she chose to burn it herself, the Merenzos had found her and tried to kill her to keep her quiet, and she had landed herself in the hands of Marce Jove. Not only that, but she had spent almost an entire day that she couldn't remember in a hospital and had likely saved Marce's life from what she could remember.


How messed up.


"Sandwiches are fine. I'll eat anything at this point, I'm not picky," she said, turning to sit correctly on the couch. She glanced around, noticing that there didn't seem to be any overly personal items laying around. No surprise there. She pulled her bag between her feet on the floor and opened it up, rummaging around inside until she found what she wanted. After a moment she withdrew a tablet computer and flicked it on, setting it beside her on the couch as she closed her bag up and set it aside. She tapped the screen a few times until she had what she wanted to show him, then just sat and waited for him to come in.
 
"I don't do peanut butter, so you'll just have to deal with a ham and cheese sub."he called back out, returning his blue eyed gaze back onto the cutting board and half a pound of ham he purchased last week at Wal-Mart. It was still good. Marce rummaged through the tiny cabinet beside him, fingering around for a knife until he grabbed one that was familiar to him by its wooden handle. He grabbed it and began to cut semi-thin pieces of ham onto the cutting board. Marce winced as he looked down at the slivers of meat falling from the pound and laying listlessly against the cutting board. The whole scene felt too...homey to him. A woman waiting for him in the next room over while he prepared a meal and a drink of sorts. He said water, but Marce had no intentions of drinking that at all. He had a bottle of Malibu Rum, Kaluha, Vodka awaiting him: A Mudslide, his favorite drink. After all that he had been through in the past 2 weeks, he deserved it and some.

When the ham was neatly stacked against the side of the cutting board, Marce proceeded to wheel himself to the refrigerator to take out the other necessities: cheese, mayonnaise, mustard, that kind of thing. For the most part, he liked his sandwich with no condiments. Bread, meat cheese, and a few vegetables would do, but the only one's he had was half a cucumber and a tomato. Those would have to do. He was slowly beginning to notice that she got a little quieter than normal. not sure if that was a good or a bad thing yet, Marce took a breather and decided to force a conversation out of her, and not the one he was awaiting.

"What do you want on it? Cucumbers? Tomatoes? Condiments of some sort? Or, you can just come in here and make it yourself. This isn't Subway."he joked with a chuckle.
 
Ace nodded to herself, then remembered that he couldn't see the movement and just stood up instead. She carried the small tablet with her into the kitchen and flicked out a piece on the back that let her stand it up like an easel. Facing the screen toward Marce, she picked up a plate and started constructing her own sandwich from the ingredients he had laid out.


"As you can see, it's a map of the US. The little red flags are current locations of girls being held against their will. Of course, for some of them, they've been brainwashed for so long that it's not against their will anymore," she said, then tapped the screen so that it expanded to a world view. Little red flags dotted all over Europe and Asia as well, and there were even a couple in Australia. "This is what you've just bought into, Mr. Jove," she murmured, finishing off her sandwich construction and taking a seat at the bar to begin munching.

[[So.. short.. DX]]
 
The sandwhich worked so many wonders on both his mood and energy that he was tempted to check it for some type of drug. He looked into the oval shaped bite mark that he made into the sub, looking through the ham, cheese, and cucumbers, but finding nothing out of the ordinary. His paranoia was soothed over as he finally realized that he just hadn't had such a good meal in a long while. Airplane food was not his idea of a good meal; first class or not, and he damn sure didn't enjoy the packed food on the c-130 through every one of his drop missions. Just to be home and taste the savory lean ham on white bread was enough for him. The tiniest of moans escaped him, almost forgetting that Ace was in the room.

He eyed her as she walked...no...strode into the kitchen. Marce was halfway through a bite of his sub when he saw her come into the room. Her hips seemed to be doing more movement than her legs were, swinging left and right with the momentum of her steps. Lips sunk into the bred, Marce's gaze landed on her lower body, eyeing her all the way up. He had denied it so many times before, but Ace was a woman if there ever was one, and a damn good looking one at that. For starters, her body was perfect. Not good looking. Not decent. Perfect. Slender waist, nice sized bust, and legs that were in shape. He cursed his manly perceptions of her, biting through the water filled cucumber while she set up the computer. Better remember who she is than what she looks like.

"47 flags all over the world, each for a girl that had been captured. Are you telling me the Mernezo's are the ones who have them?"he asked, setting his sandwich down while he wheeled his way to her side. The computer was a small, intricate looking thing. Expensive, too. That was an eye opener but he decided to save the nit-picking inquires for later.

"Scratch that. Let's start off with how you know all of this stuff." Marce positioned himself on the counter in front of her, leaning on his side and grabbing for his sandwich. He kept eye contact with her, refusing to look at anything else. Marce Jove was in business mode.
 
Eying Marce as he perched himself on the counter in front of her, she set her plate on his lap since he had taken the space and continued to munch on her sandwich as if using a BAD operative for a table was an everyday occurance. Ace was still adjusting to thinking of Marce as a bad guy, really. She had never had an issue with him before she met him, which was the opposite of how it probably should have been. In all of her contacts to him, however, she had viewed him as an ally. Now they were working together, but it was far from a partnership and she was certain that as soon as Marce got every little piece of information that he wanted, she'd be dead.


"Well ye-" she started to reply, then paused and considered what he chose to ask instead. It wasn't really a specific question, and she knew that he'd know that. 'How do you know all of this?' wasn't the same as 'Who told you where they were?' or 'When did you find out?' She sighed and leaned back a bit, taking another bite of her sandwich and swallowing before she bothered to speak to him again.


"I know because it's my business to know, just like how it was my business to know who you were and how to get in touch with you when you needed to find Kelly," she said, looking at him steadily without so much as a blink. "There are answers here that you aren't going to like if you dig too deeply, Marce, and we should probably avoid that for now until we get the more urgent matters out of the way. Most of these girls are not in good health," she added, hoping to redirect his attention off of herself.
 
"Um, what the hel-" He didn't even have the time to curse at her about being used as a table when Ace started back talking. She waved off everything she had done as if it were nothing less than what she had done her entire life. He felt like she had taken a step into his house and deemed it to be her castle, striding anywhere she wished and placing plates on his laps like he was some type of jester. Still, what she was saying was far more important than his annoyance towards her. Marce was quickly reminded to babysitting. Even though the children are wild and almost untamable, one would still have to grit their teeth through it until the day is over and one gets their pay.

Marce was not getting paid to put up with her bullshit, however.

He leaped off the counter with ease, scoffing the last of his sandwich into his mouth before bumping into Ace on the way to the sink. It was a childish gesture, but he was in the middle of eating that whatever he had to say to her before could be shown in action. Actions did speak louder than words. The two of their plates clanked into the sink, the sound of running water combining with the clatters. He mulled over what she had said, chewing the last remnants of his blissful sub before responding.

"Of course they are. I doubt the Merenzo's have them in suites. If any of them were treated with the high life, it should have been Kelly." The words left before he could take them back. They lingered in the air as a reminder of the child's state when she was rescued. How long were the other girl's waiting to be rescued? Marce wiped his hands on his pants and walked straight to the living room, not even bothering to call Ace to follow.

"Any way those little flags could tell if they are alive or not or am i asking for a miracle?"
 
"Yeah, because the one little girl with a wealthy background should have really been the one who deserved to be treated than the dozens of poor ones who are suffering worse than she was," Ace snapped back, then stopped and realized that she had let him get to her and said something that probably should have just stayed in her thoughts. She finished off her sandwich, ignoring the fact that he was obviously annoyed with her for using him as a table. As if it was her fault - she had sat at the counter before he chose to sit on it in front of her. Whatever. She slid down and walked over to the sink, setting her empty plate inside before turning to see him vanishing into the living room.


"They're all alive. The dead have already been buried and their flags taken off the map," she said quietly, though loud enough for him to hear as she waited a moment before trailing after him into the living room. She sat on the opposite end of the couch from him and just watched him for a little while before she looked away.


"I know we aren't going to get along, Marce, but that doesn't mean you have to treat everything that I'm saying or doing as an act of deliberate defiance. I'm trying, okay?"


She sighed inwardly and pulled her bag over to her across the floor, rummaging around in it again. After a moment she pulled out a small notebook, only a few inches tall and bound at the top with a spiral wire. It had one hundred pages and every single one had at least two names and addresses on it, plus directions that involved rows and columns. She tossed it at him with a glance.


"The locations of the bodies of the girls who didn't make it."
 
"I am too, sweetheart." he muttered, loud enough for her to hear but not too loud for it to seem false. It was just hard to hear bad news over bad news over bad news again. Marce had a job to do for the BAD: protect, order, serve. He thought it was an accomplishment getting Kelly back to the States alive and well only to find out that there were 47 other girls in the same situation, and some that didn't make it. What was the hardest pill to swallow, was knowing that Ace knew all of this the entire time she was wearing the Reflection mask, and yet she took her sweet precious time with giving the BAD the coordinates to her whereabouts. He was trying, alright. Really hard.

When he tossed her the note book, he grabbed it in the air and looked at it. His eyes darted down the pages of very clear and legible writing. A name and a location. Some of them seemed rushed and scribbled in while others were crystal clear. Marce swallowed something nasty when Ace told him what the names were. The Rachel Windwood. Betty Miles. Rachel Neubacher. Kendra Todd. The list went on and on and each and every time he went from one to the other, the image of a cold, blue body zipped in his eyes. Marce realized what he had swallowed was bile. He was starting to get sick.

"It doesn't do anything for me but torture."he said, tossing the notebook to the couch as if it were covered in acid. He locked eyes with her instantly to see if she caught his slight moment of weakness. Her face was just as somber as his. Was it possible that she shared the same pain he did? He doubted it.

"There's 47 flags for one girl or multiple ones? If so, do you know the exact location of them or just the general area?"he asked, coughing to clear his voice back to Marce Jove material.
 
Ace watched Marce react to what she had handed him, knowing that it was probably really hard to accept. He had been working under the glorious delusion that this one girl was the only one. A conspiracy, probably, against the government since she was the daughter of one of their own. Just the Merenzo's causing waves. Yeah, right. More like floods, but BAD didn't know about it. Now Marce was being tossed into a pit and told that Kelly was just one. Not only were a few dozen still waiting out there to be rescued, but over one hundred had already given their life to escape the slavery. Even for somebody who knew about it, it was difficult to think about, and she soon froze the thoughts to focus on Marce.


"Each flag is for one girl, except for one flag in Australia that is the location of a set of twin girls. When you tap the screen, it zooms. If you tap a flag, it hones in on that specific one. The building that they're being held in is marked. Every single flag has an address, and I could probably tell you how many Merenzo goons are set up around each one, but it'd take me a while. The ones in larger cities have more security, the ones hidden away have less," she said, picking up the tablet as she spoke and tapping it a few times to demonstrate what she meant before she handed it back to him and settled back in place.


"I've been collecting this information for over a year.. I know what you're thinking. Why didn't I go to the police, right? I've got addresses and the lives of children in my hands and instead of telling the government, I just sit back and keep my mouth shut," she said, looking down at her hands and shaking her head slightly. "It wasn't like that though, Marce. It really wasn't."
 
He kept his eyes on her at all times. Most of the reason was to find some emotions in the lines of her face. While she was saying all of that, while she was thinking everything up until that point, did she feel any remorse? Any sympathy for the poor little girls captured in the hold of a notorious group of Italian men? Dead the names of the dead women scream out at him on that notebook like they had done for him. He wanted to know that there was an ounce of emotion in that stern, arrogant body of hers.

Ace eventually brought his attention back to the tablet, showing him exactly how the flags worked. It was kind of like a little game. You tapped on a flag on a country, double clicked it for building and addresses, getting specific locations. Each flag was pin-pointed in a specific place on the map. When Ace gave him the honors, he tapped the ones in Brazil and other parts of South America. Quite a few were there. There wasn't a great many in Italy, obviously. With Merenzo's being Italians, holding woman hostage in their own country was a nuke waiting to happen, though he knew the BAD would not go that far.

"It's gonna be hard saving all of the women by myself since you will not allow me tell anyone else about this information. Which, I don't see why not. I can tell the Ops of the BAD but I will guarantee your safety in my house."he said once she finished her confession of why she didn't relay the information to the authorities. Marce was convinced that nothing she could say would justify why she kept the information from him and the BAD when they needed it the most...but there was one problem: He couldn't make it past her facial expression. Her lips, full and pink, had curved into a frown of sorts and Marce winced, doing his best to avoid the look.

"Talk to me."he said in the calmest voice he held since their meeting.
 
"I never said that you couldn't tell anybody, Marce. I know that you can't do it all on your own, you aren't that good. All I said was that I wasn't going to tell anybody except you. I didn't want a group interrogation from all of your lovely friends. Do with the information what you want, just don't tell them where you got it until it's all over with. After the Merenzos have been destroyed, you can yell my name out from the rooftops if you want, I won't care. I'm sure I'll be dead long before then anyway," she said, not looking at him as she said that.


"I am talking to you," she added shortly after a minute or two, her expression clear as she internally shut down to avoid showing him too much. This was business. All he wanted was information.


"Keep the tablet, bring it to work, whatever. You can have the notebook too in case you want to notify families where their daughters are buried," she said, then stood and glanced at him for a moment before looking around.


"Bathroom?"
 
Marce was ready to comment her on her death speech but, as many times as she did before, she disregarded his slight tinges of worriment and care as nothing but nuisance. Her point was clear: He could revel in the information as much as he needed to but she wasn't going to tell another soul but him. Marce should have been rolling around with the tablet clung to his chest with a sheepish smile of victory on his face. Fairy tales never came true. He wanted absolutely nothing to do with the notebook first and foremost. It had the names of dead girls on them. Why would he want to be anywhere near it? The computer was almost the same. What if one of the red flags vanished right before his eyes? It wasn't just a tiny colored signal on a screen. It was a human being killed, murdered, or committing suicide while in the presence of cold-hearted Merenzo's.

"I am talking to you."

Marce brought his iced gaze up to her. Ace couldn't get past her arrogance to even see the severity of the situation! Marce could literately feel his blood boiling beneath his skin, but getting mad at her would get him no where. She would just refuse to talk to him for the rest of the night and continue the talk in the morning. Marce looked over to the digital clock on the stand beside him. 12:34 AM. He sighed and wiped his face with one hand.

"Down the hall, second room to the left." His voice gathered a tired twinge, coming out in muffled puffs through his fingers. Thoughts of death and loss had tainted his mind and way of thinking for the night. The two of them might as well had dropped it until the morning when they were well rested more so than they were in the hospital. Marce grabbed the tablet and held it open, staring blatantly at the flags, looking at that the empty space where the Holand was. Where Kelly's flag had been. He darted his eyes over the screen slowly, eyes dropping in either fatigue or stress. Whichever one, it would be banished with sleep.
 
Ace sat on the side of the tub after she had found the bathroom and locked the door behind her out of habit. Staring at the tiled floor blankly, she wondered how long it was going to be before Marce really started to lay into her and demand answers with a firmer hand than he was now. Already he was getting irritated, and soon that would boil down to violent frustration. It was a matter of time. She glanced at the window, small but large enough for somebody to crawl out of if necessary. Escape wasn't on her mind, though. Actually, she was surprised that he had let her come here alone after reacting so poorly to her being left to her own devices at the hospital. Perhaps giving herself up earned the trust that she wasn't going to bolt.


Fantastic.


She stood after a few minutes and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Reflection. It was who she really was, right there for people to see if they looked closely enough. Nobody ever did.


Flushing the unused toilet and washing her hands, she went back out to the living room and curled up on the end of the couch. She didn't even glance at him, not for a single moment. Now that she was back in front of him, she had just shut down again. Feeling numb instead of anything else that was boiling just below the surface. The urge to break down and cry was gone, replaced by a calm that probably irritated the shit out of him. Oh well, not her problem until he snapped.


"Next question?"
 
Sending her away to the bathroom only made things worse. The living room's atmosphere got more lonely and the air got colder. Hallucinating or not, Marce was feeling a tad better when she walked passed him and to her previous position on the couch. He looked at her after flickering his eyes away from the tablet. Her expression didn't look any different from before. Her eyes never crossed over to his or anywhere other than the couch for that matter. Marce lifted a brow but even that didn't amuse her. She just muttered for him to continue with the business at hand. His shoulders slumped at her somber command. If he wan't mistaken, he might have been able to catch a twinge of pain in her visage. Then again, it was almost one in the morning. Marce would have believe anything at that point.

"Fair enough. What took you so long to tell me where Kelly was? It can't have been fear. I had no idea where you were and had no chance of hurting you at the quickest chance. You had so many opportunities to tell me. And you knew she was in danger. Why did you take your time?"

Marce set the tablet down for the moment. There was no need to consult the tablet at all. They were only discussing Ace's job as Reflection in tiny bits and pieces. It was more difficult than Marce let it off as being. Every single question he asked her had 5 more waiting behind it. However, when another yawn passed his mouth, he planned on sending them both to bed when she answered his question.
 
"I didn't take my time."


Ace turned and looked over at Marce, meeting his gaze evenly so that he would realize she wasn't lying to him. She knew that this question was bugging him badly, and she refused to let him get angry and think that she didn't give him the whole answer. In fact, she was more upset that he thought she was just leading them around mindlessly than she let on, but of course she would never tell him that. Let him think she was cruel. Not that it mattered anyway, as long as everything was ending on the right note.


"The Merenzos aren't stupid, Marce. They can be outsmarted, but they aren't just a bunch of cattle. Every single location that I gave you, every single clue, was real. And yet every single time they got tipped off. Kelly was moved so many times that it took all of my time just to track her around so that I could feed you the next spot. Either somebody working for you was tattling back to them, or they just saw you coming. She was there, you were so close for weeks and there was nothing else I could do to get you there."


She paused for a moment, then turned back and looked away. It was late, she was tired, but she knew that she wouldn't sleep for a while even if he gave her a bed right this second. All she wanted was a reset button on life, was that so much to wish for?

"Next question.."
 
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