10-08-2024, 08:47 PM
The hot water was bliss, and Nesrin sank into the opulence. She drank champagne from the bottle while she contemplated her predicament, bathed in shadows and the glow of the city skyline. She’d discovered a tiny puzzle box on the keyring, nestled next to the mundane key. Its secrets eluded her for now, which was frustrating, but what she was actually considering was what the fuck to do with it. Preferably without burning any bridges she might later need. Whatever was hidden inside, it was unlikely to be of use to her; the m’Antinomian were a cut above the rest, and if it turned out to be tech she imagined it’d be completely beyond her comprehension. But that didn’t make it worthless to her either. It was a complication, though, that was for sure.
When she’d had her fill of luxuriating, she climbed out of the jacuzzi and wrapped the robe back around her. The cold made her grin breathless, and she took one last peek at the playground of this new city spread out below before she grabbed her things. Back in the condo she took a shower, then situated herself amongst a mass of pillows on the master bed, snug in a pair of men’s silk pyjamas, before she finally checked any devices. The alert wasn’t much of a surprise, but it still made her mutter fuckfuckfuck under her breath. Admittedly there was a bit of thrill too (or maybe that was just the bubbles in her head). Because nothing said value quite like the threat of a price to be paid.
Zigzag didn’t earn his name by betraying clients, though maybe he’d make an exception for one who’d stolen from the Emissary, if it came down to it, because it certainly sounded like he considered his own neck to be on the line. Nesrin didn't lack caution, but neither was she afraid of risk when she felt that little twist of thrill inside; the same inclination that slipped her fingers into the Emissary's pockets in the first place. Return the key, and then what? Bode was on the radar now, and even if she played nice, that was a black mark against the name. Or the first rung on the ladder of notoriety.
Instead the message she encrypted back was simply: what is he?
When she’d had her fill of luxuriating, she climbed out of the jacuzzi and wrapped the robe back around her. The cold made her grin breathless, and she took one last peek at the playground of this new city spread out below before she grabbed her things. Back in the condo she took a shower, then situated herself amongst a mass of pillows on the master bed, snug in a pair of men’s silk pyjamas, before she finally checked any devices. The alert wasn’t much of a surprise, but it still made her mutter fuckfuckfuck under her breath. Admittedly there was a bit of thrill too (or maybe that was just the bubbles in her head). Because nothing said value quite like the threat of a price to be paid.
Zigzag didn’t earn his name by betraying clients, though maybe he’d make an exception for one who’d stolen from the Emissary, if it came down to it, because it certainly sounded like he considered his own neck to be on the line. Nesrin didn't lack caution, but neither was she afraid of risk when she felt that little twist of thrill inside; the same inclination that slipped her fingers into the Emissary's pockets in the first place. Return the key, and then what? Bode was on the radar now, and even if she played nice, that was a black mark against the name. Or the first rung on the ladder of notoriety.
Instead the message she encrypted back was simply: what is he?
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