ᴛʜᴇ ғᴜɢɪᴛɪᴠᴇ, ᴄᴏᴘʏʀɪɢʜᴛᴇᴅ © There he was, sitting there with his cold, sinister eyes, his gaze focused fully upon the detective. He did not utter a word, nor a sound. His stubbornness was like a vipers grip. ‘Where were you last night at 3 a.m.?’ the detective repeated. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, then closed it again. Cocking his head, he looked to the door, it was screened by a security guard. But the security guard was not what the fugitive was looking at, but the shadow travelling under the door. The detective and guard took no notice as the door edged quietly open. In slipped a handsomely dressed young man, an aristocrat no doubt, with a diamond-encrusted pocket watch hanging daintily out of his coat pocket. The fugitive’s eyes lit up in delight, think of what he could do with all the money he could get if he sold the watch on the black market! The aristocrat strode dutifully towards the detective and laid his hand on the fugitive’s shoulder, with feigned familiarity. He slowly inclined his head and whispered in the fugitive’s ear; ‘If you ever want to get out of here, maybe you should stop looking at my pocket watch so intently.’ As graceful as a doe, the aristocrat stood up and walked over to the detective, ‘Sir, I am sorry to interrupt this… splendid matter, but may I ask for a second alone with your charge?’ The detective began to protest, as the aristocrat bent down and whispered something unheard in the detective’s ear. Smiling like a crocodile, the aristocrat straightened his wrinkled coat and placed his hand on the poor man’s shoulder. The aristocrat’s rings gleamed threateningly in the dim light of the room. Disturbed, the detective hurriedly swept out of the room, exchanging a few words with the security guard and both scrabbled out of the room like frightened mice. Annoyed, the aristocrat started clicking impolitely in the figurative’s face, whom was lost in thought, didn’t fully register what was happening. ‘Come on now, stop staring at me as if I have something wrong with me.’ He tapped his foot franticly and kept looking at his pocket watch every few seconds, ‘So, what shall I call you?’ The fugitive grunted. ‘That is hardly an answer. You're not much of a talker, are you?’ The fugitive grunted, again. ᴀs ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ sᴇᴇ, ɪᴛ ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ғɪɴɪsʜᴇᴅ ʏᴇᴛ. sᴏ, ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀɴʏ ɪᴅᴇᴀs ғᴏʀ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴs ɴᴇxᴛ, ɪ'ᴍ ᴀʟʟ ᴇᴀʀs! ᴀʟsᴏ, ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴᴇᴡ ᴘʀᴏᴊᴇᴄᴛ ᴄᴏʟᴏᴜʀ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇ. xx ꫝꪮρꫀ
