Page 58 of Even Robots Die
It sounds ominous.
I’m not going to answer because, knowing the speed he can move with, I doubt that he’ll hear me even with his amazing bat-ears. He’s probably already on the other side of the castle, anyway.
I finish my plate. And then his.
Because I don’t see why I should waste food like that.
And then I go back to my room.
But when my whole life has been spent either toying with anything remotely electronic or taking care of my family, I realize I have no idea how to rest.
36
Florentine
It turns out I don’t know how to do nothing.
I’ve been in my room for what feels like forever but is, as a matter of fact, only about forty minutes, and I’m already bored out of my mind. I’ve called my sisters. Only Amélie answered. I’m not too surprised, but at least she updated me on life back home.
They’re not doing too bad. The city, on the other hand … it’s a shit show.
The lockdown is worse than ever. People are getting arrested for no reason. And when they don’t get arrested, they disappear.
It’s not a good time to live in Paris and it’s really making me antsy that I’m not doing anything right now.
It’s not even ten in the evening. I could be in the lab. I could double check the coding. I could work on the second part of the programming.
I’m starting to think Brice enjoys being an asshole, but if tonight is any indication, there might be more to him if all his emotions weren’t dead.
This is it.
I’ve rested enough.
I stand from where I was sitting on the bed and walk to the door.
Only to find Brice right in front of me when I open the door.
“What did I tell you, Miss Furious?” he asks with a smirk.
He’s only wearing pajama pants. Nothing else.
As I take a step back, he leans against the doorframe just a few centimeters away from my face.
I should be angry that he’s been guarding my door ever since I came back to my room so I don’t go out, but I have a feeling he actually came straight from his bed.
It might be the fact he’s only wearing pajama pants, or that he didn’t even bother with shoes, or maybe that the wild strands of hair that usually fall on top of his forehead are now sticking in any direction but the usual one. It gives me an unobstructed view of the white line that circles the top of his forehead.
“I just needed to stretch my legs,” I answer because that’s the only thing that comes to my mind.
It’s not like I can say I needed to go to the toilets or that I was hungry. There seem to be toilets in every room in this damn castle and I ate both our plates of pasta less than an hour ago.
“I’ll go with you,” Brice answers me and I stop short.
“What? Like this?” I sputter.
“Any problem with my outfit, Miss Furious?” he asks, and it’s like that smirk that appeared when I opened the door is stuck on his face because it hasn’t disappeared ever since.
“Your lack of outfit, you mean?” I ask instead of answering, because yes, I do like those dark blue pajama pants that hang too low for my own sanity.
