A game by a different name...
Percy knew Sam would come. It was something in the way they were, the invitation for something that would grow to be bloody, or fulfilling in some other way. Either result had its own benefits for Sam, and he more than knew it. But as the clock in the hotel room clicked on by, Percy flicked through the telly's channels with little amusement.
"Sam, Sammy, Sammy...where are you Sammy..." It was a bit annoying how long it was taking the man to show up. He had a timeline to keep, after all. No one should ever accuse the boy of not being able to plan. It was a discredit to their intelligence.
"Sam, Sammy, Sammy...where are you Sammy..." It was a bit annoying how long it was taking the man to show up. He had a timeline to keep, after all. No one should ever accuse the boy of not being able to plan. It was a discredit to their intelligence.