“I would presume you are wondering why you have been brought here,” he asked, delicately lifting a glass of rose wine to his lips.
All these words and phrases, ‘presume’, ‘make your acquaintance’, ‘shan’t’ hinted at Mr. Smith’s goal. He wished to sound sophisticated, high up, even threatening. I fought back the urge to respond with brutal honesty. I had to play the part of a quiet, fearful girl. Quiet and fearful girls are less of a danger then bold, snarky ones. I was more likely to gain information in this manner. I normally wasn’t the manipulative type, but I didn’t seem to exactly be a guest of honour here.
“Of course, sir. Anyone would want to know where they are and why,” I say cooly, slumping my shoulders in an effort to [Reduce??Minimize] my 5”7’ frame. Mr. Smith examined me with a scrutiny I wasn’t quite comfortable with, as if he didn’t quite believe my little show.
Mr. Smith took in a small breath before he advanced. “The Agency needs something from you, Jaylen,” he said, taking on a slightly mysterious air. I watched him carefully, measuring his words. The word ‘agency’ and the conviction in which he said it caught my attention. I’d never heard of an Agency before, not outside of my books.
“What could I possibly do for you?” I asked doubtfully. In my mind, I added, And why should I? But I kept that comment in the confinements of my head. Undeterred by my doleful demeanor, Mr. Smith continued his tirade.
“You have the ability to do things you’ve never imagined in your wildest dreams,” he murmured, his gaze intent on my own. My doubt and suspicion steadily grew at his smooth, persuasive tone. I had no idea what he wanted from me, and I had the feeling I wasn’t going to like it. It was becoming more and more difficult to play my role of a vulnerable girl. I decided to cast it off, figuring I may as well ask my questions more directly, as I was used to.
“Why should I do anything for you? What do I have for you and how in the world would it benefit you and the ‘Agency’?” I asked, my voice bold, outright, and suspicious. Mocking, even. I had forgetten my fear here, tucked it away, drawing myself up to my full height once again. My eyes questioned Mr. Smith as much as my words and tone did.
Mr. Smith looked slightly taken aback, disappointed, but not the least bit surprised. He raised an eyebrow at me, and silently watched me for several seconds. The ruby luminance danced off of his irisis as he shifted slightly forward in his seat.
“Oh, I think you’ll be quite agreeable when you learn,” he said chillingly. A shiver ran down the length of my spine; something in his tone was distinctly threatening.
I refused to let Mr. Smith know of my discomfort. “You only answered one of my questions, Mr. Smith,” I reminded him, tapping the dark table in front of me with my forefinger.
Mr. Smith narrowed his eyes in annoyance. “You’ll learn the answer to those in time,” he told me smoothly, betraying nothing. I scowled, crossing my arms. I hated it when people answered me in riddles. Was it that hard just to tell me the straight answer?
“I’d advise you to eat something, Jaylen, but obviously you have your own ideas about what’s right,” Mr. Smith told me scathingly, popping a blueberry in his mouth. “I have no idea when we’re planning to feed you again.”
A part of me wanted not to eat anything just to defy him, but reason was working it’s way though. It was true I would most likely need my strength to get through this ordeal, and I truly had no idea when I would get my next meal.
So instead of snapping back a clever retort, I flashed Smith a smile, and delicately picked up a fork. “Of course,” I said graciously, my voice sickeningly sweet. “I wouldn’t want to offend such a … generous host.”
Chapter #3
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