Immortal

Dirty Walls (Chapter 12)

"Get her out," the scarred man's low, harsh tone was like cold seeping into my bones. His gravelly, rough voice sorely contrasted with the dead silence that engulfed the room.

"I'd like her to-" Dana tried to argue back in an impassive, lower voice.

"Get... her out," the other interrupted, restraint very apparent in his tone.

I felt a hand on my upper back, gently nudging me towards the door. I sneaked another look at the silent crowd before moving. Their uncomfortable gazes were trained anywhere else but on us. Some of them looked towards an empty corner of the room while others made themselves busy reading papers they had promptly placed on the table.

I forced my legs to oblige the insistent hand, having found them frozen for the briefest instant. I reached for the door, swiftly opening it and slipping past it, still clutching the empty glass in my other hand. I was further surprised to find Dana following behind me.

His same hand rested on my shoulder, pushing me further away from the entrance. While we traversed the empty entrance hallway, he addressed me in a hushed whisper. "Neo can be quite... touchy, at times." I thought I heard the words uttered thought a smile, but I didn't turn to confirm. "Won't be long before he comes round, I guarantee it."

He guided me through a big wooden door, adorned with small murals, portraying geometric shapes with different shades of gray, opaque glass. We entered an ostentatious living room with extravagant furniture and opulent decoration. My eyes quickly fell on the short table that displayed an enticing plethora of expensive drinks.

"I haven't heard you utter a single word yet," I barely registered Dana's words while still enraptured by the prospect of more alcohol.

I turned to face him once my brain caught up with his statement. He had sat down on a pastel green sofa with a golden frame, facing an unlit fireplace. His eyebrows were slightly raised expectantly while his thumb and index finger brushed the sides of his chin in curiosity. I managed to spot a slight hint of amusement in how the corners of his mouth threatened to curl upwards.

He was right. So much had happened, in such a short period of time. Too much. It all hung in the air around us, things I should have opinions, objections and questions about. Which I should voice. But, instead, the unintelligible swarm of thoughts that befogged my mind had me in a standstill.

I finally managed to produce some vacant words in response. "Mind if I get a drink?" I pointed to the coffee table that stood a few meters away.

He exhaled a quick chuckle. Contradictorily, I saw the faint traces of amusement leave his features. He looked down, abstracted for a moment. Without looking back up, he motioned with his head towards the table.

I quickly neared it, mind rapidly clearing up as I chose which of the fine bottles I'd indulge in. Pouring it into the glass I was holding on to, I had already found myself having coherent thoughts.

"I think you should get to know people better before offering them jobs in your criminal empire," I pointed out as I brought the glass to my lips.

The loud eruption of laughter I got as a response almost made me choke on the whiskey. I glanced at the man only to see that same confounding open smile, so unbecoming of him.

"Allow me to, then," he retorted once his laughter had died down to a chuckle.

I didn't immediately gather what he meant as I moved closer to where he was sitting. "Hum?"

"To get to know you," he added, now in a more serious tone.

The understanding made me instinctively recoil, wary of what the request might entail. I stood my ground, suddenly not keen on approaching him any further.