Snippet #1230190

"There's no need," Al said, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. "We've already decided that we're not telling you anything. No matter what you do, you can't get any information out of me, or my friends."

"Then you're of no use to me," Jim shrugged, his voice slightly high-pitched, indicating boredom. Glancing over at Sander, he raised a slight eyebrow in thought. "Well. He doesn't have long," he nodded towards the werewolf. "He'll either die of fright or turn into a wee wolfie on instinct within the next few minutes. If there's anything more, ring the bell," he gave a wave with two fingers and turned around to leave the room.

Sander didn't seem to be lucid at the moment, and showed no signs of reacting to anything spoken outside his own little bubble. His eyes were focused on a spot above him, as if the danger he was so afraid of was somewhere above him. His lips were trembling slightly, and his left eye twitched, as he drew in a breath of air.

"By the way," Jim said as he stood by the door, "if you were wondering, once Mr. Mathiasen is done throwing his little tantrum, I do believe you're next, Mr. Wendsleydale, if you survive. Unfortunately, Mr. Nightwing over here is expecting visitors," his expression turned slightly grim for a the first time, before returning to its usual smile. "Goodbye."

And with that, he left the room.