voice post.
Click.
There are some bumping and rummaging sounds, then the scraping of fingernails across wood. A loud exhalation is heard.
"Where."
A sound of collision, then a jarring thud and a burst of static.
There is the wet clicking sound of a tongue tapped against the roof of the mouth. The scraping resumes until fingernails collide against metal with a light 'tink' sound.
"Knew it", muttered so low as to be almost inaudible. There is the creak of a chair tipping back, the squeak of shoes sliding across tile. For a while there is only the light static of silence, punctuated every few seconds by a piercing clicking noise.
Muffled voices are audible in the distance.
There is a whisper, hardly discernible, of "Aequitas, veritas-" the words slip out in hisses. The snipping sounds continue for a while, then cease.
The drumming of fingers on a tabletop, then another exhalation- this one with a somewhat rattling quality to it.
"Do you know." Spoken articulately, thoughtfully, clearly, yet without any emotion at all.
There is silence, broken only by the ticking of a clock.
"I didn't think so."
ooc: Clarification: the tape recorder is now, unbeknownst to our dear Pein, under his desk. Where it shall dutifully record his every word. Oh the possibilities.