[ He bats her hand off when she plucks at his plate of canned vegetables. Not sharp, but forceful -- a reminder for her to stay out of his personal space. He doesn't speak at first. He chews slowly, his face, downturned in reflective habit, suggesting that his mind is elsewhere, his thoughts adrift -- but that's a lie. He is fully conscious of both his solitary audience, and the faintest creaks and rustles in their periphery. ]
[ A beat, then: ]
Wait 12 hours. If the coast is clear, the Syndicate will call. [ Idly, he stirs the goop of food around with his plastic fork: the sticky stockade of potatoes that might have been mashed last year, the wrinkled green peas that belong in a lab test-tube. A few hours, he reminds himself. Then you can get a fresh meal. ] If there is no news from them, we're on our own.
[ Double-layering. Countersurveillance. Rendezvous points. The usual jargon of their profession. She knows all of it -- hell, she's been in the trade long enough. Hei can't imagine why she'd even ask the question -- unless it's a ruse of some sort, or a way to fill in the silence. ]
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Date: 2015-03-15 04:11 am (UTC)[ A beat, then: ]
Wait 12 hours. If the coast is clear, the Syndicate will call. [ Idly, he stirs the goop of food around with his plastic fork: the sticky stockade of potatoes that might have been mashed last year, the wrinkled green peas that belong in a lab test-tube. A few hours, he reminds himself. Then you can get a fresh meal. ] If there is no news from them, we're on our own.
[ Double-layering. Countersurveillance. Rendezvous points. The usual jargon of their profession. She knows all of it -- hell, she's been in the trade long enough. Hei can't imagine why she'd even ask the question -- unless it's a ruse of some sort, or a way to fill in the silence. ]