Can You Feel It?

12.

KAYA

Chicago was a bustling city, even at night. All bright lights and car honks. It was a view I'd seen a fair number of times.

But never once from Erex Di'Castillo's car.

That had changed tonight when he gave me another ride.

We hadn't talked much except for what was necessary after Amella was detained. But that was by design. We were occupied, yes, but this was also an opportunity for me.

"Do you think she'll be released?"

"Depends. Can't really say."

I hummed in response, "What do you think about the case? Is she in the wrong?"

He glanced my way, sleeves folded as he maneuvered the steering wheel, and we zipped past another car on the highway.

"Depends."

Ah, I see. So he's taken the diplomatic route. He won't divulge his opinions until he trusts me. Of course, I'm still a long way from earning it. But I'd thought we'd definitely made some progress. No issues, though. I could give my opinions, at least.

"I think she shouldn't be convicted." I firmly stated, aware that he, too, probably agreed with this line of thought. It was the righteous, the morally correct one, after all.

"Bold words to say." The low timbre of his voice would have some women shiver. 

Combine that to his corded forearms on such blatant display and his expert maneuvering of the steering wheel, and it'd have women on their knees.

I'm not exaggerating. I simply know that because I've observed male and female interactions, I keep up with the trends, and I need to keep up with information so as to pretend I feel things normally.

"Very low." Erex answered, his tone detached but words honest.

At his answer, my eyes shifted from his forearms, and I cleared my throat, again paying attention to his side profile. "Don't you get frustrated by the system?"

A quick glance from his caribbean blue eyes, "Doesn't everyone?"

I nodded slowly, looking away. "What will happen to Darius?" I paused, "Fated to be thrown from one foster home to another? Carry the burden of thinking he was his mother's biggest undoing for the rest of his life?"

"That's just how it goes." Non-committal. I think that's what his tone was like. Not emotionless, not distant, not bitter, just....accepting. And I'd been hoping for more of a show of emotions. Before I could say anything, though, he spoke as we passed a green light. 

"You sound bitter about it, though." 

I blinked. I'd sounded.......bitter? 

I didn't intend for it to sound that way, though. I'd just unintentionally thought of what he'd have to go through and remembered.....my mother.

It was when he addressed me again that I realized I'd taken too long to respond. 

"Have a strong moral compass?" He threw me a dry smile, brittle and odd.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "I wouldn't be in the FBI otherwise." The words should have sounded indignant. I hope I managed the emotion convincingly enough.

You couldn't exactly say that I was a righteous person. Actually, no, I wasn't one. 

But I tried to be. I'd learned what accounted for morally correct actions. To do a good here or there. I tried. But my line of work and lack of emotions didn't make it quite that easy of a task.