5.12.1
Michael walks up the stairs to the loft with a goofy smile on his
face. More "connecting" tonight. Oh yeah, he can get behind that.
Pearce is in the loft, and with that a sense of foreboding
begins. This can't be good. But he puts his game face on, just because it's not
good doesn't mean it might be personally bad for him.
Or it could be very, very bad.
His blood froze when he saw the charger on the screen. Everything
in the world just went wrong.
Later, in the backseat of the armored SUV, feeling utterly
deflated, wondering how today could get any worse, a thought hits. When he gets
to wherever they're taking him, they're going to go through his pockets and
find a semen-soaked sock.
It's official; things are now worse. He debates trying to sneak his hand into his
pocket and shove the sock between the car seat cushions, but Pearce is glaring
at him, and has been the entire ride.
He hears car engines revving, and catches a small flash of
blue out of the corner of his eyes.
Maybe things are about to get better.
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