Bad Blood (6Questions)

Day 17

It almost seems like the Earth has swallowed dear Tom Grieser. Oh, if that took him six feet under, I'd have no problem with it whatsoever. But he's gone to ground together with my assistant, and I may bury him very deep if he doesn't show up soon to me. I've got no damn intention to spend the whole week on my search.

"Mark, my friend," I sit down in the iron prison chair that's getting way too familiar to me. And less and less cosy...

"How can I help you?" he grins back at me provocatively, knowing damn well what I want from him. No need to read my mind for that.

I move a bit in vain effort to sit in more comfort - because the ants are there in my pants, yes, whole bunch of them, and they're biting me like Mark's freakin eyes do. Fuck, I'm fighting a losing battle intending to settle this in peace. "What do I know. Just stopped by to chit-chat for a sec," I force my voice calm, sitting back eventually.

He nods and puts one leg across the other, mirroring me, hidden sarcasm slowly biting its way up to the surface. "Good. Very well. Sure, Dam. In fact, consider coming more often and they may find you a snugly bed and keep you here for life."

"Is it a good bed? You enjoy it? Feel like keeping it for the next how many? Seven years?" I'm all blinking and sharp breathing. God, those bastards boil my blood. "Lord. I admire you, sir. Such a calm, modest man. Adaptive."

"Not everyone can have your comfort," Mark responds with a raw sneer of disfavour.

I take it with an unfazed smirk. But a dull pain twists my guts. "I'm very comfortable with things as they are, thank you. Although, well, I've been getting a little lonely lately - and then it turned out I had a company right under my nose the whole damn time." Rage still threatens to explode from inside me in all beauty through the little slit of my tight fake smile. In resonates in my voice but I manage to get a grip of it more or less. "Tom Grieser appears to be a great buddy."

"To Marianne?" Mayor doesn't blink once, stealing all the more calm from me. "I'd say so. He probably is."

"To me," I let through my teeth with far less carelessness than intended.

He nods several times with twisted joy from our conversation. He knows I can't find him. And knows he won't give me the slightest hint, it's lost. "No, not to you. Tom's too much of a bully boy for ya," Mark mocks blatantly.

I clench my jaw flat out. He has fun of me. He thinks this is a fucking game. Oh, well. So I have to pull the last ace from my sleeve. "Dad says to give me his address."

"In... five more days, is it?" he cries foul.

"Flat out."

"Hm. Or what?" he shrugs, unconvinced. "You'll call your daddy, stamp your foot? Not my concern, boy, not to mention where will Jean send you, frankly."

I take a deep breath. Okay, my move. "Well, me and my dad agreed I should..." I look at the guards by the door and lower my voice cautiously, "I'll kill her."

He openly laughs at my bluff.

"What's your freakin problem?" I hit the desk, standing up. He can't laugh, he can't laugh at that, the madman!

But Mark just shrugs with an innocent face. "I'd like to be there and see it..."

"You can't."

He tilts his head. "Five days from now..." He points at his eyes with two fingers as for me to read.

What, that they'll be free in five days? Alright... Or maybe you won't, I return his look with an acted carelessness, although boiling inside.

"Five days," he makes big ironic eyes, "what's that to you? Do us the pleasure and wait. It'll be a lovely welcome-back gift to us, hm?"