10-27-2015, 11:09 AM
Where Ihsan had started to move away from the counter, Alexander had grasped his side with both hands as if to lean forward against it. She wouldn’t be able to see it, but his knuckles turn white with the strength of the grip that he has on the wood. The faint spirit of a smile fades from his face and the stony neutrality returns to mask whatever might be going through his mind at that moment. He doesn’t react, doesn’t move, as the woman shrugs and waves and throws her little comments in his direction. Alexander gets what he wants; he watches the doors swing closed as the woman leaves. He lets go of the counter, but it’s an effort; his hands have cramped up with the tension of his grip. With one last glance as the now-still doors, he makes his own exit into the back of the station.
It’s not his desk that he returns to, at least not just yet. It’s the locker room, just as deserted as he’d hoped. It wasn’t close to any shift changes, so only the occasional straggler needing to shower, change, or retrieve something would be passing through. Which is fortunate.
Fortunate, because there’s nobody to hear as he punches the front of his locker. Fortunate, because there’s nobody to hear him shouting at the dented door, “the fucking woman thinks this is some kind of game?!” The door gets a boot in it, just for good measure, but his temper is fading. Fading, only to be replaced with yet more worry. Who was she? There hadn’t been any mention of her on Ginger before he trashed his phone, and he wasn’t about to start randomly calling up people to ask if they knew the new psycho in town. Not if there was any chance that his calls were going to be monitored. Same for trying to dig up anything about her in the systems he had access to here.
But how the hell had she found out about him?
And... What the hell did she know?
It’s not his desk that he returns to, at least not just yet. It’s the locker room, just as deserted as he’d hoped. It wasn’t close to any shift changes, so only the occasional straggler needing to shower, change, or retrieve something would be passing through. Which is fortunate.
Fortunate, because there’s nobody to hear as he punches the front of his locker. Fortunate, because there’s nobody to hear him shouting at the dented door, “the fucking woman thinks this is some kind of game?!” The door gets a boot in it, just for good measure, but his temper is fading. Fading, only to be replaced with yet more worry. Who was she? There hadn’t been any mention of her on Ginger before he trashed his phone, and he wasn’t about to start randomly calling up people to ask if they knew the new psycho in town. Not if there was any chance that his calls were going to be monitored. Same for trying to dig up anything about her in the systems he had access to here.
But how the hell had she found out about him?
And... What the hell did she know?