He doesn’t answer or move to leave.
He watches me with bewilderment. The expression a tell-tale sign that I’d dragged a truth into the open he’d been pretending didn’t exist.
“You don’t have to say anything,” I comment back. “I already know.”
His jaw squeezes with frustration under his mask. “You don’t know shit.”
I let out a slow exhale through my nose. “It’s okay, I won’t take it personally. You’re not angry at me,” I declare. “You’re angry at yourself.”
His eyes darts back to my face. “Stop doing that.”
I can’t make out many expressions on his face due to the material covering it, but his cheeks were most likely red with fury from my comment.
“Doing what?” I question innocently.
“Reading me,” he hisses. “Like you’ve got me figured out.”
I yawn and stretch to the best of my ability as my body becomes my own again, “You keep telling yourself this is just a job,” I remark. “That I’m just another random hostage you took. But if that were true, you wouldn’t still be in here.”
He gives a quick shake of his head, “I’m not your savior,” he says, but it’s almost as if he’s trying to convince himself of that very thing. “And you’re not going to turn me into one.”
I nod once. “I know.” Followed by a small sigh, I then continue. “That’s not what I need anyway.”
His brow furrows. “Then what do you need?”
I don’t respond and instead let him sit in silence.
Just as he goes to ask again, I blurt out, “Time.”
Chapter Ten
Dante
Inside the room,Leigh releases a deep breath.
Finnic’s been in the room with her for quite awhile now. My shoulder is already starting to ache since I’ve been leaning against the wall beside the doorframe their entire conversation.
The faint vibration of their voices echo through the cheap wood.
My fingers work automatically, rolling a cigarette between them as I continue to listen on.
Inside, she replies to hisquestion,“Time.”
I don’t hear anything for a good minute. Most likely because Finnic is in there trying to decide what she means.
“If you’re hoping that stalling will buy you time for someone to come crashing through that door to save you,” he scoffs, “It won’t happen.”
Leigh doesn’t answer immediately.
Silence is one of her favorite tools. If she allows the silence to hold enough weight in a moment such as this, it will make the other person, in this case Finnic, fill it with their own assumptions. They end up overthinking, which in turn gives the other person some type of power over them.
“I’m not stalling,” she chimes in.
“Then why not just tell him what he wants to know? This could be over as fast as you want it to be.”
A silent laugh escapes me, stripped of any real humor.
She responds, “Do you really think that brute of a man will just let me go if I tell him what he wants to hear?”
