Nada's Escape: Fighters' lies

2.3 Tables

The two wardens melt back to the wall behind me. I fold my arms, glaring at Finley's shoes. White canvas nothings, blending in with the grey lino.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have," Finley starts out apologising.

Goosebumps rise along my arms, responding to the cool of the room. I tap my foot, bored already.

"Shall we sit?" He backtracks to one of the tables, resting his hands on the black plastic for a moment. I approach with all the wariness of a stalking tiger, but he just calmly gestures for me to sit. It feels like an order, but I'm dead tired. So I sit.

"So, how are you?" Even the bright, hopeful note to his voice sounds dulled this morning. I slump further back in my chair, rolling my eyes.

"We're back to this are we?"

He sighs, a big breathy exhale of disappointment. Unfortunately, he shakes off the disappointment just as quickly.

"What would you like to talk about?" I can hear the polite smile on his lips.

My eyes roam the room; the white walls, the black top tables all bolted to the floor. Anywhere but him. That would be a lot easier if the room wasn't so goddamn boring. But that's the point isn't it?

"How about last night?" He offers.

I groan and lean my aching head forward onto my hands. "Can we not?"

"Oh. I didn't think you'd regret it."

I shrug at the table. My head hurts and I feel like I've got chips of ice in my veins. But I'd do it again.

I realise this position gives me a straight shot view at his hands, fingers spread across the table top. His pointer finger twitches as he searches for something else to say.

"Or maybe you just regret that you didn't make it?"

I wish I could close my eyes and go to sleep. But I need to stay awake, alert to the enemy before me.

"Like maybe," his voice lowers to a whisper. "You've thought that if you had a lookout on the Hunstmen side, you would have succeeded." His last sentence slows, like a train coasting to let secret passengers climb aboard.

I lift my head upright and his hands skitter back towards him as if fleeing from my gaze. They stop on the edge though, knuckles and fingertips hovering there as if afraid. Is he trying to tell me something?

"Do you feel that?" Finley interrupts, derailing my thoughts.

"What?" I ask. His fingertips turn white with tension on the table top.

"Is this table wobbly?"

I frown at his hands, doubtful. These tables could outlast a tsumani.

"I really think it is," Finley continues, "Should we switch to that one instead?"

"Sure..." I flick a confused glance to the new table. Its further from the wardens and the sliding door. The camera's right above it, but I'm not sure if that's tactical advantage. What's going on here?

Finley stands first, gesturing galantly for me to lead the way. I shake my head. There is no way I'm putting my back to him. Especially after the hug.

His shoulders only drop a millimetre as he steps out into the aisle, face still turned to me.

"Its hard to find the right words, don't you think, when someone's always watching them?"

Then he crosses to the new table, taking a seat facing the wardens. The male one shrugs and leaves the room, obviously bored with Finley's antics. He has that effect on people.

I take the seat with my back to Mildrith, keeping my distance from the table top where Finley has arranged his forearms.

"Did you know, that I had to argue with four wardens to get in the same room as you?" I lift an eyebrow. I didn't think the wardens could outright refuse him anything.

I notice a leather band, stamped with some symbol, laying across his wrist. I squint at it, trying to remember if I've seen it before. I think some of the wardens wear them. Like Huntsmen friendship bracelets? Seems unlikely.

"And I know you don't want my help, but there are things you need to know. And I can't just... say it. Someone might... misunderstand." He flicks his hair out of his face in a jerky movement I haven't seen before. I try to focus on his bent knuckles and not the urgency in his eyes.

Finley rambles on, "But maybe if we had time and -"

I slap a hand down on the table, "Just say it!" I glower at his hands, impatient with all the chatter.

He hesitates, forearms retreating to his side of the table. "You really want to know?"

"Yes?" If it will stop you dropping hints for the next half hour.

The tension of the last few minutes leaves him too quickly. His hands relax, one turning palm up as he leans back in the chair.

I catch him nodding in my periphery and grit my teeth. Of course, give him an opening to speak and he's as happy as a clam. Finley glances behind me at the warden and frowns.

"Could you give us a second?" he requests and is met with stoic silence. I am tempted to turn and see the warden but I keep my attention on the bigger threat before me. I press my hands into a stress ball on the table and beg myself to revise reacting even as Finley's hands creep towards mine.

He flips one palm up, reaching it a centimetre further, a question in the gesture. I sense his gaze moving between the table and the warden, and my mouth opens in silent protest. I flick my eyes up, just once to his see his expression. It's pleading.

"Please." He whispers. I snap my eyes back down.

I understand the ploy. If I pretend to be a worm, or in love, I might just convince the wardens I'm no longer a threat. Then they'll leave us alone.

His hand lies on the table, waiting. It looks like a trick, a bear trap. New tactics, but the same game.

But what if its not? There's something off about him today. It's not just the hints, there's something... edgier in his manner. My gut tells me to risk it, to take the chance that he's got something important to say.

So I inch my fingers towards his. Under the table I shift my heel into better kicking position. I've got a spot picked out right between his legs. Just in case.

I curl my fingers around his, the warmth uncomfortable. His sigh is silent this time, shoulders falling with relief. I school my expression from grimace to smile as I glance over my shoulder, checking if they buy it.

Mildrith's eyebrows remain quizzical, but she blends back through the sliding door. She points at the camera, reminding me to behave. My smile drops back to a grimace as the door hisses closed.