Setting
She sat down in a seat that she deamed as hers and layed sideways in it. "If there is anything you need to know other than our absolute personal bussness don't hesitate to ask either me or one of my.....'brothers'." She was fine calling them exactly that once she matured a little since they were the only type of family she had or ever would. She could feel her hair falling in her small face and undid her ponytail letting all her hair down for once without fixing it. She had no reason to, the codes were safe and they had a mercenary. Hopefully giving Jannick some answers because if she had to ask them and Quimbry gave her the same sarcasm, that might just make her into that..... hothead Connor called her at times.
Her answers overall were amusing. Vague, ambiguous, as he had counted on. The fact that she had even answered his questions showed a type of confidence in herself with information. She seemed to know what to say without giving away anything vital. It was also possible her vague answers weren't just on purpose. Perhaps she really didn't know the answers to the questions he had asked?
Jannick raised his eyebrows at Quimbry's questions. "Your turn?" he asked, "You are my hostage. Since when do hostages get turns?" He smiled wryly. So, learning her name had really gotten to her. That was good. He decided to humor her by answering. "I used a program," he replied vaguely, "And it's nice that you want to know mine, but I'm afraid that's out of the question. However, if you are really desperate for a name, you can call me Nick."
"Nick" had been his go-to name whenever it wasn't convenient to reveal his actual name. It was close enough to his real name that he could remember it, but at the same time it was distanced enough to prevent people from correctly guessing his real name. The difference in emphasis was definitely important. There was only one issue, and that was when someone said "Yeah" before his name. However, the blatant mispronunciation of the a and the goofed up emphasis had resolved it.
"So," he said with a smirk, "If I had asked exactly what your motive was, would that have changed any of your answers?"
She scoffed, "Well, last time I checked, it was my job to make your job difficult."
Upon hearing Quimbry's questions, he immediately raised an eyebrow and stared at her from across the room. "Your turn? You are my hostage. Since when do hostages get turns?" Then, he put put on a stupid smirk. He sure was proud of his ability to piss her off with only a few measly words. In response to his captive's questions, he offered little actual information and revealed only that he'd used some sort of program to discover her name. As for what his name was, the only thing offered to her was the alias "Nick". Was it some sort of nickname? Maybe it was the name of one of his partners, although that seemed highly unlikely. Either way, it wasn't like she could contact any of the company researchers and ask them to look into it, considering that somebody short-circuited her phone.
She just couldn't figure this guy out.
"So," He continued, the smile still stretched across his face, "If I had asked exactly what your motive was, would that have changed any of your answers?"
Quimbry rolled her eyes yet again. "Nope." She replied casually. "Has it ever crossed your mind that I might not have a motive? Who's to say I'm not just some brainwashed freak sent out to do Sanctity's little chores? Maybe I just like being a slave of the company." She threw herself back against the chair, getting more and more irritated as she spoke. Because that's exactly what she was; nothing more than a servant sent out to do meaningless jobs that a bunch of obese chairmen were too lazy to do themselves. Staring down at the floor, she wanted nothing more than to strangle every last one of them. Quimbry couldn't though, even if she ever escaped. There was just too much at risk for her.
"My job." She mumbled, "That is the only motive there's ever been." Her response was vague, but she couldn't say that it wasn't true.
Her answer to his question was intriguing. It was definitely one of the more specific answers she had given. It was possible she was bluffing, but when he noticed that she looked irritated after speaking, of all things, he began to think otherwise. Her follow-up answer was just confirmation that she wasn't just annoyed with him, but almost with herself.
The smile just grew wider as he got to these conclusions. So. She wasn't just a hired gun out for money. It seemed that the company had something on her. That she had no choice but to do this. Interesting.
"Thanks for that," he said. He leaned onto his back, staring up at the ceiling as he thought. It hurt to sit up for too long. "So. You're company property?" he mused, more of a statement than a question, "Do you have family ties? Or, perhaps, no family at all?" That would be the more likely explanations for it. Either it was a family business, or she had no family, perhaps deceased or abandoned.
He'd need to get her phone later. If he charged it up, he could get numbers. He resolved to check through it later. After he was done questioning Quimbry.
"An odd name," he remarked, "You're probably the first person I've met with such a name. And Cancio...Is it Italian? Or Spanish? Perhaps Portuguese..."
"So. You're company property?"
She sighed. "Yeah 'Nick', I guess you could say that." There wasn't much of a point in hiding something so trivial. She enjoyed most of her missions, but in the end, that didn't really matter much. They got completed either way.
"Do you have family ties? Or, perhaps, no family at all?" He asked. It would be like him to assume that she was the daughter of some sort of mob boss or corrupt company chairman.
"No. I just happen to work for them. My family isn't really your business anyway." Quimbry couldn't bring herself to be extremely rude; she was exhausted as it was. Clever responses and pointless rants would only sap what was left of her expended energy. Against her own will, she felt her eyes slowly begin to drift shut.
"An odd name," He mumbled, waking her with a start, "You're probably the first person I've met with such a name. And Cancio...Is it Italian? Or Spanish? Perhaps Portuguese..."
"I don't see how that really matters," She muttered, rubbing her face against her bound arms, "It's Spanish." Quimbry's guard was down, and she already knew it. She just couldn't bring herself to care. If he wanted to know about herself, it really wouldn't matter in the long run.
She was getting worn out, he could tell. She had almost fallen asleep. If there was a time to get any information, it was now.
Knowing the ethnicity of her name might seem trivial, but trivial information--which was more likely to be given up--could prove extremely helpful in the long run. While normally Jannick stressed quality over quantity, in a situation like this, a lot of information was better than no information. There was also the issue of lying, but she was tired and the truth would be easier on her.
"Do you have any friends?" he asked, "Or used to anyways?" She seemed like a private person, and he doubted it, but you never knew, "Ever kept a diary? Do you like to read or watch movies? Were you the only daughter in the family? Perhaps with a lot of brothers? Do you live by yourself? Do you have any pets? Typically speaking, are you loud or quiet among a group of peers? Do you like the color pink? Purple? How about unicorns? Do you play computer games? How old are you anyways?"
He finished his tirade of seemingly pointless questions, waiting for her answer.
"Yeah," She muttered, "But I guess sleep wouldn't do me any good right now. She stretched her back against the chair and let out a monstrous yawn. Then, she was confronted by yet another barrage of questions. With every new string, it seemed like they were getting more and more personal.
"Uhg," She groaned, "More pointless questions. Let's see; No, yes, hell no, sometimes, no, yes, I'm not telling you, no, depends on if their idiots, no, purple's cool, HELL no, and yeah." There was one more questions pertaining to her age. This, Quimbry wouldn't give up without some sort of struggle.
"How old are you?" Quimbry was turning 18 in less than a week, and although it'd be something that a typical girl would flaunt around, she didn't really feel that she needed to broadcast it to her captor. She looked much older than she actually was. If he wanted to think that she was, Quimbry wouldn't be the one to stop him.
All these thoughts ran through Jannick's mind. He processed them, putting them together so he could get a better picture of this girl as a person. He smiled when she shot the age question back at him. "Older than you, I bet," he replied, "Though your answer isn't entirely necessary. You're obviously under the age of 25. That I can tell just by your face structure. People probably guess you're in your early twenties by your appearance, but since I like being the oldest, I'm going to put your age around 18." He grinned. He knew that he had practically announced his own age, but it was probably the most useless of information he could give her. "And yes, my questions might seem pointless to you, but in actuality they help me figure out who you are. Just from what I've asked you, I can tell that you are much too busy with your job for socialization. You don't like to express your feelings, possibly because you think you can take care of them yourself, or because you don't want them to be used against you. You aren't much of a bookworm or a movie-goer, which suggests escapism isn't exactly your thing. You are not the only daughter, which I found interesting, but the number of brothers you have is probably enough to put you in the background. You probably received the least attention out of all your siblings, or at least perceived you did, and you don't have much of a strong bond with them, except for maybe one sibling. However, you still care somewhat about your family, otherwise you would have revealed them to me when I initially asked. That leads me to believe you don't live with them at the moment, distancing yourself both to get away from them and to protect them. You probably live alone, and don't have time for pets for the same reason you don't have time for friends. You don't like being around idiots, which I can appreciate, but you aren't entirely an introvert. You aren't a girly-girl, but you also aren't a hard-core feminist, and you're probably a realist, finding too avid of an imagination distracting."
Jannick finished and watched Quimbry for her reactions, "Does that sound about right?" he asked.
"Does that sound about right?" He asked with an amused look on his face.
Quimbry shut her eyes and grumbled almost inaudibly, "You should have told me that you were some sort of shrink. I'd have been a bit more careful if you had." She stared straight at the man. He must've been only a bit older than her, judging by his response. He was however, far more cunning. "You got me. But don't think that'll get you any farther in the whole 'code' situation." Now that she knew what Nick was capable of, she under no circumstances wanted to be stuck with him for much longer. Anything that she said could be turned against her in some way.
"Now that you've asked all your questions," Quimbry muttered, "Don't your friends need you or something?"
He couldn't help feeling proud of himself. Subtle interrogation for the win! Definitely more fruitful than Connor's technique of waterboarding, or whatever heinous tortures he had in mind. And Fia probably would have lost her temper after a matter of minutes.
"Well, I think I'm done for now," Jannick said. He grabbed the back of her chair and dragged her out of the room to the kitchen. He knew she was hungry, and he himself was in want of a snack. Thinking burned more calories than you'd think.
As usual, he placed her in a position where she wouldn't be able to touch anything. That chair was her island, and he wasn't about to let her leave it yet. He pulled out some instant noodles and started a kettle boiling. "Hungry?" he asked as he waited on the water, "What do you want?"
"Oh, joy." Quimbry cringed at the thought of being stuck with the genius for a single minute more. He wasn't violent or fast-acting like the others, but that's exactly what made him so dangerous. He liked to take his time.
"Well, I think I'm done for now,"
Before she could respond, she was being dragged yet again. Quimbry hated when people snuck up on her. She flinched and waited as Nick placed her in a small kitchen, once again with not a single thing in reaching distance. Gritting her teeth, she cursed her luck. If the white-haired idiot had been interrogating her, he might have accidentally placed her next to a knife rack or something useful. Then again, she probably wouldn't be conscious either.
"Hungry?" Nick asked, pulling out a pack of instant noodles. With how hungry she was, even a crumb would've seemed like a feast. "What do you want?"
Quimbry made a sour face and remained silent. She threw her head to the side, refusing to look at the man. Under no circumstances would she ask for food. That would only prove to him that he was in charge of the situation.
Unluckily for her, now was the time that her stomach decided to roar loudly above all else.
He placed the cup of noodles on the counter, keeping the lid down with the chopsticks. "If you don't tell me what you want by the time this thing finishes cooking, I'm going to force-feed you myself. So you might want to rethink which is the more humiliating: asking for food, or being fed something you may or may not like against your will."
"Whatever," She muttered in an almost embarrassed voice, still refusing to look in Nick's direction, "I don't care. I'll take whatever." She wasn't a very picky person, but that didn't change the fact that asking was a big deal. The company wouldn't approve of it either, they'd rather that their employees die honorably resisting than accepting the offers of the enemy. Then again, they weren't too fond of getting captured either. Regardless, Quimbry had done both in the course of day. At least she thought that it was still the same day, she couldn't really be sure how long she'd been knocked out for.
Just imagining the reaction of everyone at Sanctity, Quimbry found herself with nothing to say. She couldn't come up with a witty remark, hell, she couldn't even think up a response that he wouldn't be able to pick apart in a matter of seconds. There was silence, or there was until Quimbry began to speak yet again. This time, however, something was different.
"There's no point you know," She whispered. Her voice could barely be heard over the creaking of the chair she was in, "Even if I wanted to tell you anything, I couldn't. So, what does it matter if I want to starve myself?"
"Forgive me if this is degrading," he said, "But I'm sure you can understand my situation. Trust isn't exactly a luxury I can afford. So, say ahhh"
He waited for her to open her mouth. "Hey, at least your gender roles aren't at work here," he added, "Guy makes girl sandwich in this scenario."
As an afterthought, he angled towards the door and shouted: "Hey! Red! C'mere for a moment!"
(sorry for the late post...I was waiting to see if anyone else was gonna post, and I had a bit of writers block...:/)
She walked back out and into the kitchen seeing Jannick and Quimbry. She scoffed and turned and looked at her older "brother". "What is it,yellow?" She raised an eyebrow and sat on the island. He looked back at Quimbry and seeing her tied up like she was just put a grin on her face, karma's a bitch and now your get fed by a man who shocked her.
OCC:Writer's block.
Fia was the only one he could trust to not kill Quimbry, but Jannick knew her hot temper was volatile. "Also, sometime later, I'll need to tell you a few things." Actually, he'd need to share his info with Connor too.
(short post is short o-o)
"I was wondering if you could get me her phone from the car," Nick asked, "That, or you can watch her while I get her phone from the car...Your choice."
She couldn't help but feel a bit more hopeful with the circumstances. There was no way that Quimbry could outsmart a genius like Nick, hell, she even speak a sentence without him discovering her intentions. This girl was different. She was headstrong, not as much of a thinker, yet not a complete idiot either. If she were to stay, Quimbry might have a chance of escape.
"Red-head should stay."