02-12-2019, 01:37 AM
The shower was amazing.
Hot water, soap and steam made for an incredible experience. Add in the fact that the bathroom was a fucking palace, and Jay wanted to stay there all day. In fact, when he put his forehead to the wall, tile slick with steam, it was all he could do to pull himself upright again. He didn’t want to just collapse in the corner and let the water pelt the top of his head.
He didn’t realize how sore his back was until the hot water melted the knots from his muscles.
After a shave and picking around purposefully at tufts of hair, he felt like a brand-new man.
The next hour was spent sprawled on the James’ guest bed in not but his shorts (it felt amazing to just be undressed for a while) and diving into the internet.
Old news stories about Alistair Grey filled the screens. Just looking for anything that might connect him to the US government. He was convicted as a traitor to the CCD, outright supporting American anti-CCD causes. The details of his crimes, being traitorous in conduct, were obscured from public awareness. If it came out in trial, it was behind closed doors; the records scrubbed.
Then came dozens of pages he knew next to nothing about. National institutes that funded pharmaceutical research. Diaz and the guy he called in DC. They were all perfect sculptures of the model citizen living the American dream. Dead ends.
Frustrated, he closed the screens all at once and rubbed his eyes. The pillow looked amazing. He could rest just five minutes. It wouldn’t hurt to just lay back for that short time. Stretch out..
...Two hours later, he woke, startled by the buzz of his wallet. Orientation took a second. Temporary amnesia numbing his awareness of the room. Heel of his hands pressed to his eyes and the wallet buzzed again.
Finally, he swiped the device. Axel had the arrangements. That night. Fucking fast, Jay thought, and responded with the affirmative. He’d be there.
He subsequently sent Natalie a message:
I fell asleep. Where are we with the money? Contact tonight.
He frowned at the screen a moment, then tapped out another line:
You’re not coming.
Probably wasn’t going to do any good to tell her, but it was worth a shot.
Hot water, soap and steam made for an incredible experience. Add in the fact that the bathroom was a fucking palace, and Jay wanted to stay there all day. In fact, when he put his forehead to the wall, tile slick with steam, it was all he could do to pull himself upright again. He didn’t want to just collapse in the corner and let the water pelt the top of his head.
He didn’t realize how sore his back was until the hot water melted the knots from his muscles.
After a shave and picking around purposefully at tufts of hair, he felt like a brand-new man.
The next hour was spent sprawled on the James’ guest bed in not but his shorts (it felt amazing to just be undressed for a while) and diving into the internet.
Old news stories about Alistair Grey filled the screens. Just looking for anything that might connect him to the US government. He was convicted as a traitor to the CCD, outright supporting American anti-CCD causes. The details of his crimes, being traitorous in conduct, were obscured from public awareness. If it came out in trial, it was behind closed doors; the records scrubbed.
Then came dozens of pages he knew next to nothing about. National institutes that funded pharmaceutical research. Diaz and the guy he called in DC. They were all perfect sculptures of the model citizen living the American dream. Dead ends.
Frustrated, he closed the screens all at once and rubbed his eyes. The pillow looked amazing. He could rest just five minutes. It wouldn’t hurt to just lay back for that short time. Stretch out..
...Two hours later, he woke, startled by the buzz of his wallet. Orientation took a second. Temporary amnesia numbing his awareness of the room. Heel of his hands pressed to his eyes and the wallet buzzed again.
Finally, he swiped the device. Axel had the arrangements. That night. Fucking fast, Jay thought, and responded with the affirmative. He’d be there.
He subsequently sent Natalie a message:
I fell asleep. Where are we with the money? Contact tonight.
He frowned at the screen a moment, then tapped out another line:
You’re not coming.
Probably wasn’t going to do any good to tell her, but it was worth a shot.
Only darkness shows you the light.