Sid left the room. Although his departure made no change in the neon light, it was followed by a heavy fall of darkness. Graves' smile slowly rose. He got up and glanced Ambre directly into the eyes. He took the recorder, smug faced but expressionless, patiently, and quietly turned it off. His glance aggressively touched Ambre's pupils as he put it back onto the table. Proceeding to the camera that was sticking out from a corner in the ceiling, he grabbed it and faced it straight downwards.
Now Ambre was his possession. He sneaked on her from behind. She could feel his breath on her neck. He audibly smelled it. She hadn't taken a bath for a few days already, while being fed with meals that were half way into their decomposition process, but Graves seemed very satisfied. She expected him to touch her disturbingly and had a strike prepared, but she only heard a click. Automatically, the chair strapped her. She was confused, but Graves remained relaxed. Then she felt his hands on her cheeks. He touched them gently, but with the decency of caressing a female dog. She resisted, but couldn't do more than shaking her head. Then he snatched her neck, suddenly, as if he wanted to strangle her, and insensitively, but lightly. His cold hands, as rough as of any assembly worker, slowly slid downwards. But they instantly stopped. Graves stopped breathing for a moment as well.
His chin tickled the left side of Ambre's neck. His lips approached her ear. He slightly spat into it as he started to whisper.
"Say, madmoiselle... If we let you go, and never harm you again, be you captured or not, and you feed us info in return, say, once a week..."
He might not get the chance for it again. His hands slid down again, like a chipping ice berg. Ambre could feel another droplet of saliva stick onto her ear.
"Would that be acceptable?"
