The douche never stops posturing, so it takes a while to tell him the story. But he's interested, I can see it in his eyes. He's drooling like Pavlov's dog.
He'll give us what we want. Later, if we live through this, it will suck to be us, because he'll milk it for all it's worth...but here and now, he'll take us where we want to go.
The morgue, in other words.
"So I was right all along about the Protectorate. And you were wrong." That's what he says as he leads us downstairs. "I love it."
"Congratulations." I'm staying close to Hericane, keeping my eyes peeled. I know how I'd react to what we're about to see.
She just walks along with a blank expression on her face, unreadable. If there's any turbulence going on inside, she doesn't show it.
"I always knew those so-called he
