04-04-2021, 12:24 PM
“Innovation,” Natalie repeated. There was a flatness to the way she said it, mired in the thought of things Brandon had once said to her. Thinking, too, of a facility in Texas, now burned to the ground. Little changed in her expression, and she expected they would interpret her silence as simple dullness. She did not care. The buzz of conversation around her was as faint as a mirage, the disconnect deeply disturbing if she cared to dwell on it. They’d flown back from America days ago, yet Natalie was still a thousand miles away.
Sharpness edged the faint smile touching her lips, but its spike was drawn inwards. If she’d been about to say something else, the words were tucked away. Her attention found Zhenya instead. The woman appeared to enjoy the company, observing the conversation with the sort of fondness one might bestow on favoured pets.
“It doesn’t feel like that at all, for us,” she said to Cruz. If he was seeking channelers, it was something she ought to inquire over. The lines of power in Moscow were something she would need to know, and she was hardly going to be able to ask Marcus to show her the registration lists. Cruz would be a useful ally. Kane too, probably. Networking was why she’d come to the club afterall. But in the moment she did not grasp the opportunity; became aware instead of the nails pressed into her palm, of the creeping pull in her chest. The one that pitted the desire to build from ashes with the destructive need for answers.
A sardonic smile broke the frozen planes of her expression; the most human she had felt all night. She let her fingers fall loose, then leaned to deposit her drink back onto the bar untouched. So much easier to chase to oblivion, but not wise. She did not think her departure would be much noted. “Excuse me.”
Sharpness edged the faint smile touching her lips, but its spike was drawn inwards. If she’d been about to say something else, the words were tucked away. Her attention found Zhenya instead. The woman appeared to enjoy the company, observing the conversation with the sort of fondness one might bestow on favoured pets.
“It doesn’t feel like that at all, for us,” she said to Cruz. If he was seeking channelers, it was something she ought to inquire over. The lines of power in Moscow were something she would need to know, and she was hardly going to be able to ask Marcus to show her the registration lists. Cruz would be a useful ally. Kane too, probably. Networking was why she’d come to the club afterall. But in the moment she did not grasp the opportunity; became aware instead of the nails pressed into her palm, of the creeping pull in her chest. The one that pitted the desire to build from ashes with the destructive need for answers.
A sardonic smile broke the frozen planes of her expression; the most human she had felt all night. She let her fingers fall loose, then leaned to deposit her drink back onto the bar untouched. So much easier to chase to oblivion, but not wise. She did not think her departure would be much noted. “Excuse me.”