(no subject)
Embedded in the glossy wood of Nicolas Rosse's desk are several screenpads; currently, every single one is displaying a different news channel. The footage is useless, but they're playing it again and again, as if by sheer dint of repetition they will somehow be able to penetrate the chaotic darkness that engulfs the scene. Linger on the blackout for just long enough to hear the screams, and then: back to the studio.
"This blatant public attack upon popular Osiris senator Gabriel Tam --"
"Still no word about whether --"
"Several splinter groups have already insinuated that they may have played a part --"
Rosse taps his fingers twice on the wood and every screen goes blank. He leans back in his chair, bare feet resting against the table's edge, and a faint, rueful smile quirks at the edge of his mouth.
"This blatant public attack upon popular Osiris senator Gabriel Tam --"
"Still no word about whether --"
"Several splinter groups have already insinuated that they may have played a part --"
Rosse taps his fingers twice on the wood and every screen goes blank. He leans back in his chair, bare feet resting against the table's edge, and a faint, rueful smile quirks at the edge of his mouth.