November 12, 2018 · 4:10 AM
(This post was last modified: November 12, 2018 · 4:17 AM by Reynard Squall. Edited 3 times in total.)
There were fifteen minutes between now and midnight. Tomorrow he would call in to the first meeting. At eight they would meet at the precinct and see who the hell they could scrabble together and see if this high risk idea could also produce the high reward they were counting on. (Make that the reward he was counting on.) He'd gone over the meeting plans for the morrow at least a dozen times, and yet his laptop and papers still called from him across the apartment he called "home" this year.
He stared at the screensaver and its dancing ribbons, but he sat far away in the dark kitchen, nursing a bottle of water in his wooden table for two. Squall was far away from the materials on his living room's coffee table.
The clock struck. The bell chimed. It shook him from his reverie and he glanced to the grandfather clock beyond his modern laptop, unfazed by its clashing antiquity.
Today would be the day.
With that resolve, Squall finally made up his mind to step to his counter and pick up his phone. His contacts opened, he pressed a name with his finger, and then the speaker button to fill his empty home with the familiar chime of a ringer.
When the chime cut and air whooshed into the receiver on the other side, he greeted tersely,
Wehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
He stared at the screensaver and its dancing ribbons, but he sat far away in the dark kitchen, nursing a bottle of water in his wooden table for two. Squall was far away from the materials on his living room's coffee table.
The clock struck. The bell chimed. It shook him from his reverie and he glanced to the grandfather clock beyond his modern laptop, unfazed by its clashing antiquity.
Today would be the day.
With that resolve, Squall finally made up his mind to step to his counter and pick up his phone. His contacts opened, he pressed a name with his finger, and then the speaker button to fill his empty home with the familiar chime of a ringer.
When the chime cut and air whooshed into the receiver on the other side, he greeted tersely,
Voss.
Reyby
Wehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh