1st Dig -> [voice]
[Five minutes ago - not even, actually - she’d been walking down the aisle of an airplane, smacking her bag into people in a rush to get to the bathroom. Clayton had said something - she couldn’t even remember what it was at this point, and Samantha had gotten up in a huff, snatched all of her carry on items - idol included -, and stormed into the tiny airplane bathroom.
She’d needed a break from him. Samantha had been around him 24/7 for weeks, arguing and fighting and dealing with drug lords and black market dealers and now they were going to Cairo and Samantha had had enough.
She’d leaned over the sink, bags still slung over her arms, and had splashed her face with water. She’d stood to look in the mirror and readjust, and instead…
She was in a cell.
What.]
Where the bloody hell am I?
[A quick look around told her it was not the bathroom stall, and a look out the door told her it wasn’t even an airplane.
Okay, not good. Her pack was adjusted on her back, and she had to take a few minutes to calm herself down - there was a panic that threatened to bubble up - she’d had enough strange things going on lately - and she sat down hard on the bed, dropping the bag hard onto the floor.
This is when she reached for the journal. The hell…?
…What is this even. Flipping through the pages indicates this is some kind of communication system - primitive at best but somehow functional. Her fingers flip through the pages, and she accidentally starts broadcasting her words before she realizes it.]
Worlds ending, turning into oblivion, medieval Keeps? Is someone fucking with me?
[…Pause.]
Have I been kidnapped again? Alejandro? Alejandro you asshole, are you out there? I’ll kill you, this time!
[Her voice echoes down the hall - nope…he’s not here.]
Bollocks.
[…Wait. Her words were appearing on the page, was this damn thing--]
Is this thing on?
[Oh, fine. Why not.]
Clayton, I swear to God if you slipped me a roofie I’m going to bloody kill you.
[Just breath, Samantha. Just. Breath. She rubs a hand over her face.]
If there is anyone of any intelligence out there - [highly doubtful] - I’d like to know if you’ve seen, heard from, or know of a Clayton Hughes. [Because this is his fault and she’s going to kill him.]
…
Please.
She’d needed a break from him. Samantha had been around him 24/7 for weeks, arguing and fighting and dealing with drug lords and black market dealers and now they were going to Cairo and Samantha had had enough.
She’d leaned over the sink, bags still slung over her arms, and had splashed her face with water. She’d stood to look in the mirror and readjust, and instead…
She was in a cell.
What.]
Where the bloody hell am I?
[A quick look around told her it was not the bathroom stall, and a look out the door told her it wasn’t even an airplane.
Okay, not good. Her pack was adjusted on her back, and she had to take a few minutes to calm herself down - there was a panic that threatened to bubble up - she’d had enough strange things going on lately - and she sat down hard on the bed, dropping the bag hard onto the floor.
This is when she reached for the journal. The hell…?
…What is this even. Flipping through the pages indicates this is some kind of communication system - primitive at best but somehow functional. Her fingers flip through the pages, and she accidentally starts broadcasting her words before she realizes it.]
Worlds ending, turning into oblivion, medieval Keeps? Is someone fucking with me?
[…Pause.]
Have I been kidnapped again? Alejandro? Alejandro you asshole, are you out there? I’ll kill you, this time!
[Her voice echoes down the hall - nope…he’s not here.]
Bollocks.
[…Wait. Her words were appearing on the page, was this damn thing--]
Is this thing on?
[Oh, fine. Why not.]
Clayton, I swear to God if you slipped me a roofie I’m going to bloody kill you.
[Just breath, Samantha. Just. Breath. She rubs a hand over her face.]
If there is anyone of any intelligence out there - [highly doubtful] - I’d like to know if you’ve seen, heard from, or know of a Clayton Hughes. [Because this is his fault and she’s going to kill him.]
…
Please.