An exasperated sigh tore its way free from Nemo’s chest, which had begun to burn with his increasing temperature. “Well, at least I’m not in the psych ward, right? Besides, I would much rather be held hostage,” he growled, having accentuated his accusation to ensure that it had not gone unheard. Perhaps they would awake from their stupor at his words, thus coming to the realization that he did not require saving – or rather, that he did not appreciate having been saved. However, his hopes were beginning to appear utterly futile as he returned his gaze to Khaat’s face, and was met with a cold professionalism with which he was entirely unfamiliar.
He violently jerked his arm away from the bed rail – only to hiss when the flesh of his wrist was introduced to the cuff’s electrifying bite. Try as he might to keep his frustration from boiling to the surface, Nemo was infuriated by her suggestion: that he may have been inaccurate in his reading of the woman, or that he may be incapable of doing so again. ‘Twas foolish, to jump to such conclusions with no more evidence in hand than a single sentence, but Nemo hadn’t grown to be a particularly logical man. Another jerk of his arm against the rail; his underlying, violent nature was revealing itself. “Oh?” he gritted out, “How’s Remus, Barbie? Tell him I said ‘Hello’ won’t you?”
An uncharacteristic bark of laughter – a response that had been forced, no doubt – resounded throughout the small hospital room, shortly following Khaat’s mention of his ‘smiling face’. “I’d be a hell of a lot more cheerful if you would let” – pause – “me” – pause “go.” He was glaring, and appeared quite unlike the man whose antics many had grown accustomed.
by Nemo Omara Sun Apr 22, 2012 5:28 am
