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"What about you, Ms. Frame?" Carlos moved all the attention toward me, who quietly sat in my chair. Making Rafe glance over, gazing, pausing for any words that would escape my mouth.
"What-what about me...are you asking?" I leaned my head to the side, not really getting an understanding of his question, watching him stroll towards one of the beige coffee seats directly next to me, sort of at an angle from mine.
"Are you interested in history?" He questioned, making me roll my head toward him, and give him a small shoulder shrug. "Not really. Actually, depends on the topic." I blankly expressed, giving him a slow nod, hearing him nod before I listened to a small groan escape from Rafe's mouth.
"I didn't listen to a word you said, okay? How much you gonna keep philosophizing?" Rafe questioned, while I twisted my head over, watching him give Carlos an uninterested complexion, allowing his rude and vicious side to glimpse through.
"You are direct, aren't you, Mr. Cameron?" Carlos quietly cracked up, giving him an optimistic and unfazed stare at the young fellow's manner.
Another miserable groan escaped my mouth at the lack of improvement that was responding to my raving questions, and reflections streaming in my head. But during this conversation, it was like they weren't there anymore. Like Carlos's lengthy speech answered them all. But I felt empty and helpless. I needed more. I was frugal for it.
"So what do you need from me? I don't like being the middle man in this conversation if I never asked for it anyway." I proclaimed, delivering him a straight complexion, simply keeping my weary and despairing eyes on him.
"I've come to believe that you and your friends are in possession of something that can help me get what I want," Carlos informed me before I felt my messy eyebrows raise in realization, but my question wasn't entirely answered.
Why did he need it?
"Which is?" My voice was softer than before.
"An old manuscript. A diary, actually." Carlos described, but I kept my dark eyes firm, and confident because we didn't carry any gold-finding books with us when we were living on the deserted island for a month.
Nothing with pages. Not even Pope brought a book with him. It was impossible for us to have it.
"Uh...Sir. I don't think we have that. We were homeless on the beach for a month. We had to make everything that we needed to use to live. Everything. There was no way a book came with us." I exemplified, shaking my head, and keeping my truthful and confident gaze.
