Fantasizing a war - A Sanders Sides Trilogy

Coffee And Notebooks

Warning! There is some Remile in this chapter, and there will be for the duration of the second book.

"Sir, I must insist! They've already killed one of our men and their horse has slaughtered four men and wounded five! These beasts are dangerous!" The small man chased after the taller lean one.

"Nonsense, Emile. They're in cages!" The tall man slowed his pace so the other could catch up with him. "Besides, that's why we need to build up a level of trust. We could get them to help us - and their winged creatures are such interesting beasts! They are sentient!" He projected, tilting his shaded glasses for a moment as he looked at the other man.

Emile swallowed, clutching tightly to his notebook. "I'd much rather look at the children, this one isn't even under 18 years! They've matured."

"All the more curious!" Protested the taller man, pushing his glasses back up his nose. "C'mon, babe, this'll be interesting." He wrapped an arm around Emile, smirking down at the pastel man flirtatiously.

Emile froze for a moment, before unhooking himself from the other with a blush across his cheeks. "That's incredibly unprofessional, Remy. I didn't volunteer for this expedition to be your next boy toy!"

Remy laughed, with a shrug. "Fair, fair! I have a history of flirting. Get me a coffee, will you?"

The assistant paused, scowled, and ran off obediently, completely aware of Remy's' eyes tracing after him.

.:*:.

Remy sipped his coffee slowly, as he waited outside the prisoner's' room. Emile stood opposite him, making notes of times, names and locations that were coming through his headset. The pastel man had been given quite an important job - everyone reported to him and he reported to Remy and Remy reported to the King. Thomas answered to no one.

"Sir," Emile said, tapping off his headset. "We're ready to go through."

"Thanks, honey," Remy smirked, pushing upon the door as he ignored Emile's' vibrant blush.

The prisoner was in a cage that was rather spacious. It was about three metres in width and four metres in length, situated in the centre of the square room. A bundle of blankets was curled up in the corner, shaking slightly.

A tuft of purple hair peered out. "Send me home."

"No can do, Mr Blankets!" Remy snapped his fingers at people who sat in front of a monitor. They scurried out like rats. "We have a few questions to ask you for our King."

The prisoner scowled. "I follow one King. And he sure as hell isn't yours. Send me home."

Emile grabbed a spinny chair, trying very hard not the swirl around in it. Remy found his self-control adorable. Emile didn't notice his companions' gaze, kicking over to the prisoner. "Now, kiddo, we don't mean to harm you. Could we learn your name and gender?"

"What?"

"Your name and gender, please?"

"No, what did you call me?"

Emile glanced up at Remy in confusion. "I... I called you 'kiddo'... Is there a problem?"

The prisoner shook their head slowly. "Nevermind..."

Remy cleared his throat. "Name and gender?"

"I'm male." Snapped the prisoner, still refusing to emerge from the blankets. "And you can call me Anxiety."

"Your name is Anxiety?" Emile mused, scribbling down quickly.

The prisoner shook his head from under the blankets. "That's what you can call me. Only my friends can call me by my name."