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Post by Horas on Dec 4, 2009 22:30:59 GMT -5
"Damn it, Tomas. The sword does not make the man, and it sure as hell won't help you when your throat is slit while you are sleeping." Quentyn's face softens. "I know you don't trust me. But if there is anything I can do to prove myself to you, I will do it. The only way to win this is to outsmart them."
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Post by The Stranger on Dec 4, 2009 22:32:31 GMT -5
"Outsmart who, answer me that?" Tomas said.
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Post by Horas on Dec 4, 2009 22:35:36 GMT -5
Quentyn had avoided saying who on purpose. "The people who had your father killed," he says. He lets the silence hang in the air for a moment. "Bettley." Another pause. "The King."
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Post by The Stranger on Dec 4, 2009 22:45:30 GMT -5
Tomas shook his head, "How do you know that for certain?"
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Post by Horas on Dec 4, 2009 22:53:29 GMT -5
"I don't," Quentyn says bluntly. "And I do not plan to do anything rash until I know for certain. But it is beginning to seem increasingly likely. And whoever the murderer is, even if I'm wrong, should let down their guard with you dead and the case officially closed, if only a fraction. And then I can find them."
He paces back and forth for a second, then stops. "We know Locke was involved, right? If I can find who he got his orders from that night, it can be traced back to the top."
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Post by The Stranger on Dec 4, 2009 23:05:29 GMT -5
"Go ask him, I'm sure he'll tell you," Tomas said wearily, "but it doesn't change anything. I suppose I shall have to move again. It would be better if you told them you found me, but I bested you," Tomas stood up.
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Post by Horas on Dec 4, 2009 23:15:38 GMT -5
"I thought you would have more fight left in you," Quentyn says. "Apparently not."
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Post by The Stranger on Dec 4, 2009 23:22:32 GMT -5
Tomas shrugged, "Where do you want it Quentyn?"
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Post by Horas on Dec 4, 2009 23:23:45 GMT -5
"Where do I want what?" Quentyn asks.
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Post by The Stranger on Dec 4, 2009 23:26:11 GMT -5
Tomas drew his blade and without another word smashed the flat of the blade across the side of Quentyn's face, dropping him like a stone.
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Post by Horas on Dec 4, 2009 23:44:04 GMT -5
Quentyn blinks into awareness some time later. He touches the side of his face and winces; it was fast becoming a massive purple-ish bruise. "Fucking stubborn motherfucker," Quentyn murmurs to himself.
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Hope you all are well and happy.