Beeps.. a monotone, repeating noise, tapping away at one's ear...
The sound of water churning through a sink, splashing noises, soap, lathering, rinsing. The sounds of drying off, footsteps padding over to the source of the beeping. A finger taps the source and the beeping stops, before the footsteps pad away. Creaking springs, the sound of weight on a bed and the slowing of breath.
She must know I am here...
The breathing turns to a crawl, shifting noises in the bed, mumbling and a light snore fills the air, the haze of sleep, embracing and comforting in it's regularity and well... normality. Gentle feet rest lightly on the tiles of the floor, barely disturbing them with warmth or presence, gliding over in a ghostlike way to the source of the beeping. The sound of plastic being moved, then silence...
... son of a...
"Dear sir/madam/whatever...
Thank you for your interest in my work, sadly I must remind you that due to whom I work for and well, the fact we don't break contracts, we wait for clients to do that, I regret to inform you that the contents of the pad you are currently reading are encrypted.
Nor will the Consortium sell me out. Since I relocated I've been treated well, I work for them, they look after me, simple labour deal, one we both see the benefit in. Feel free to explore the pad if you have any doubts as to the validity of this message, however I should inform you that there will be several nexus stalkers waiting outside the building. I eagerly await to hear of your attempted escape and subsequent termination.
In the event the Silvereye fail to honour what I asked for, then perhaps your successor will find more to gain from such a venture, though no doubt the nexus stalkers will take great delight in extracting his internal organs in much the same way they will from you, with you still breathing if I am any judge.
Have a pleasant night, what little you have left of it.
Yours sincerely,
Erynia Starshard, wind trader."
... she knew, great, I have to get out of here.
... gentle gliding toward the doorway, a muttered curse carried along under the breath, followed by heavier footsteps fading into the distance, a soft rustle and whisper, and the footsteps abruptly stop. A gurgling sound, and then nothing...
... nothing but the sounds of content slumbering and the occasional shift in the weight on the bed.
"Some prices are too great. Some webs should never be spun." - Erynia Starshard, Cenarion Agent (Internal Affairs)
