(Untitled)

[walksthebounds]

When the military-looking strangers had first come to drag Jamie out of his cell, he's briefly but firmly convinced that Airlock Day has come at last - so much so that it comes almost as a relief when they took him to a small, dark room and shoved him down onto a seat instead.

Almost.Jamie knows what the combination of military types and small,

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[comm_npc_2]

The big sergeant by the door is very nearly twice Jamie's height, and easily several times his mass. The slighter officer -- slighter only by comparison; he's built like the military man he clearly is -- takes the chair opposite Jamie, close enough for the silver pins in his collar to be clearly visible. They're shaped like eyes.

He doesn't speak; only picks up the plain gray case resting at his feet, rests it across his lap, and clicks it open.

[walksthebounds]

"Well," Jamie says, extremely nervous, and therefore compulsively chatty. "Isn't this cosy! I suppose we're starting out with the thumbscrews, and then moving up to the Iron Maiden?"

[comm_npc_2]

What comes out of the case is a strip of what might be plastic or might be glossy paper, with a number of burr-like patches arrayed down it at precise intervals. The man peels off one of the patches, leans forward, and with a quick gesture applies it to the back of Jamie's hand.

[walksthebounds]

Jamie watches the procedure with unsurprising interest.

"Ahhh - so it's to be drugs. Right on. Better that than thumbscrews."