By the end of lunch, Alaric was still hungry and still stuck on the middle of a perfectly balanced scale, the only difference with the scale having a new, possibly unrelated third option: it was either some sort of conspiracy (obviously of the supernatural sort), he was actually crazy, or he’d just had the very bad luck of being kidnapped by
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"You O.K.?" Loaded question, but in a warm room full of growing things even hysterical teenagers didn't seem too bad. Not that Soren looked on the verge of a nervous breakdown, but this place did that.
"Here, fill these with potting soil." He handed over a tray. "After this morning it's probably a good idea to keep our noses clean." Metaphorically speaking. He'd dragged a hand over the bridge of his own once after sticking his hands into the dirt, and a little of it was still stuck there.
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"For the most part. I found somebody I knew at breakfast, which was unexpected." He kept his tone even as he tipped the soil carefully into the pots. He knew S.T. was willing with information, which made Soren at least attempt to feign politeness, but it by no means meant that he trusted the man. They were still relative strangers. It would take much longer for Soren to come close to dropping his guard.
"You were involved in that mess, then?" He didn't bother to hide his disdain. "From what I've heard, attempting to incite anything like that during the day isn't a particularly wise move."
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He knew exactly what Soren meant about his buddy. The people you most wanted to see were the ones that should be out there fat and happy.
"Funny you should ask. Couple of guys I know are headed down there tonight, and I was thinking of tagging along. I'll tell you tomorrow. Deal?" He grinned. Like a hero about to charge off into a battle and get his head blown off. The basement was a stupid idea. As stupid as escaping a helicopter with guns in a rubber raft and only a few gallons of gas? Yeah, about that stupid. Maybe the Eagle would play spirit guide and nurse him back to health. "If I still have four limbs, it's no worse ( ... )
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"I've never seen a decent map of what's outside, period. The first two floors, sure, but everywhere else people are treating like pet research projects. Publish or perish, man. Even if they don't want it all up on the board, it'd be good to have more intel floating around."
"Be careful out there. I know a guy who thinks Marc's all right, but he only has a few weeks experience with humans. He could be another one of Landel's pawns." Might not know it himself. Loyal idiots made the best henchmen, didn't they? When the good guys tried that they got the emphasis on the idiot part. Like Wyman and the fucking van.
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"I don't suppose you've a vague idea of how far the grounds extend?" Soren wasn't so naive as to believe that whatever monsters hung around would stop there, but it would at least give him enough information to begin mapping the place. That was as acceptable a project as any for as long as he was stuck in this place. If it achieved nothing else, it would settle his debt with S.T. for giving him the two floor maps and a rundown of the place on his first day. Whether or not the man admitted that such a debt existed, Soren knew that information never came free. It was all a matter of give and take.
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