[[Continues Cruz's story from The Depths of Hell]]
The thump of the music was faint in the tunnel; it sounded quiet as a drifting pulse. Esper enjoyed the sensations of the Devil’s Lair, for the overwhelming emotion usually magnified into one great sea of feeling, and it felt glorious. People generally came here for the same reason after all. So the dancing between keeping an eye on the mark had been euphoric and senseless. Sweat sheened her skin still, and dampened the hair against her temple. A little push kept others from bothering her and Roza too much. A little fun was fun. But not hands where she didn’t want them, when she didn’t want them.
It was a tight ship where Ekeziel was concerned, which usually meant an easy night. They only had to nudge the right direction. Except the job had gone sideways when the mark had been led like a lamb down into one of the deeper tunnels. Not a problem until it was a problem, and Esper had grabbed Roza’s hand and pulled them in the same direction.
They’d seen it all.
Now he was where the woman had unceremoniously dumped him, twitching and moaning a little as the drug worked its way through his system. Esper sat close by, legs crossed, chin rested in her hands. She lulled in the strength of his fear, half-glazed with it, reading the same bit of graffiti on the wall over his head a dozen times over. All ye who sin.
Tactile buckles and leather made up most of her outfit. Heavy boots and fishnets. A sequined jacket hung loose from her shoulders. She glanced at Roza. "How long will it take?"
The thump of the music was faint in the tunnel; it sounded quiet as a drifting pulse. Esper enjoyed the sensations of the Devil’s Lair, for the overwhelming emotion usually magnified into one great sea of feeling, and it felt glorious. People generally came here for the same reason after all. So the dancing between keeping an eye on the mark had been euphoric and senseless. Sweat sheened her skin still, and dampened the hair against her temple. A little push kept others from bothering her and Roza too much. A little fun was fun. But not hands where she didn’t want them, when she didn’t want them.
It was a tight ship where Ekeziel was concerned, which usually meant an easy night. They only had to nudge the right direction. Except the job had gone sideways when the mark had been led like a lamb down into one of the deeper tunnels. Not a problem until it was a problem, and Esper had grabbed Roza’s hand and pulled them in the same direction.
They’d seen it all.
Now he was where the woman had unceremoniously dumped him, twitching and moaning a little as the drug worked its way through his system. Esper sat close by, legs crossed, chin rested in her hands. She lulled in the strength of his fear, half-glazed with it, reading the same bit of graffiti on the wall over his head a dozen times over. All ye who sin.
Tactile buckles and leather made up most of her outfit. Heavy boots and fishnets. A sequined jacket hung loose from her shoulders. She glanced at Roza. "How long will it take?"