Snippet #2484957

Crombie frowned, the crackling of the intercom causing him to flinch. He could already tell he'd have to get use to the noise. There were many other sounds of movement and silence and muttering. He heard Cadmus's voice and the other unnamed man, maybe Sophia had said something but Crombie was not paying as much attention as he should have been.

Crombie is, or was, a journalist. Interviewing people who were having hard or dramatic times during their life. His job was to keep people entertained, he seemed to assume the public took comfort in knowing a blind person did all this, someone who wouldn't judge them on their opinions and would merely listen. This was why his media company often deployed him over others, Crombie was more likely to pick up on the details of stories, rather then the irrelevant details of a physical life style.

How much more amusing could this get?

Crombie was in a manipulated environment which he could not control, his people skills seemed far less than useful, and he was out of his mind.

"Could someone please point me in the right direction -- Could we talk about this?" He just desired some sort of closure to what was really happening. He slouched, hands much colder than before, mumbling, "I left my coat in the room."