"It really takes a lot -especially in our line of work- for me to feel alive, but you do that for me, Vivienne."
When psychically gifted Vivienne Salvatore is forced to flee to London from her home up north, she stumbles upon a "prestigious" agency...
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"Can you tell me what you think this is?" I pull back the first cloth as I speak, revealing the last object: George's toothbrush cup.
Miss Carnell, the long-haired blonde girl sat before me, is the second applicant to reach this stage. The first, Miss Paisley, had some curious insights into the cup's origins. All false, of course.
I suspect Miss Carnell to think the same.
She takes the cup in her hands and closes her eyes, as listeners usually do. I see the confusion and panic hit herm. George and I exchange a knowing glance.
"It's- um-", Miss Carnell starts, her voice unsteady. "There's a darkness. Very dark. I'm sure you two would rather not know." She quickly leans forward and places the cup back onto the table, eyes wide.
"We already do know," George says, smirking. "But please remind us." He reaches toward and grabs the cup, then tosses it back to her. She catches it and closes her eyes again after exchanging shakily. I don't have to look over to know George is grinning.
"It's ancient," Miss Carnell explains. "I can hear the sound of old machinery...and...screams! Oh, yes. Terrible screams!"
"What exactly do these screams sound like?" George inquires. He mockingly replicates the sound of toothbrush bristles on teeth. We both begin to laugh.
"I'm sorry?" Miss Carnell has opened her eyes, and is now staring us down. "Did I miss something?"
"Miss Carnell," I start, still laughing. "That cup is no source. It's George's toothbrush cup." George erupts into laughter once again. "It was a test...which you've unfortunately failed. When we're working as a team, there's no room for lies."
"I'll walk you out-," I start as Miss Carnell scoffs and reaches down to pick up her bags, before I am abruptly interrupted.
"I can handle it myself," Miss Carnell storms out of the room, slamming the front door behind her as she leaves. George and I turn to each other and laugh once again.
"Ancient machinery?" George scoffs, still chuckling. "Creative, I'll give her that." He takes another biscuit from the plate (on his turn, of course). "We'll never find someone at this rate."
"There's only one left," I respond. "Miss Green."
"Only one?" George repeats, sarcasm evident in his tone as it often is. "It can't be. This exciting day can't finally be over."
