Page 103 of Gunslinger Girl
Pity followed her gaze. Adora stood a few feet away, arms crossed.
“Miss Selene would like to see you,” she said. “Right now.”
Adora led her to the suite’s elevator, snapping her fingers impatiently at the guards as they reached it.
“Wakey, wakey, boys. Look sharp,” Adora snapped. “Or at least pretend. Pity? Guns. Leave them here.”
“What?”
“Leave your guns”—Adora accentuated each word—“here.”
She’d never been barred from carrying her guns in front of Selene before. Fingers dumb with reluctance, Pity yanked at her belt strap. She removed it and handed it to one of the Tin Men.
“Watch those,” Adora ordered, a little cat’s smile on her lips. “But don’t play with them. Pity doesn’t like it when you do that.” She motioned for Pity to enter the elevator.
When it opened again, Selene stood before a window, her back to them. Adora cleared her throat and sat on a couch, eyes wide with expectation, something Pity had seen plenty of times before.
It was the look of someone waiting for the show to start.
A nervous sensation grew within her, as if a nest of ants had settled in her stomach.
Selene’s voice, when it came, was low. “Have a seat.”
Pity took a few steps forward, one eye trained on Adora. “Is something wrong?”
Selene’s figure turned partway, so that the light of the noon sun glazed the edges of her form. “Sit,” she said again. It was not a request.
Pity went down the stairs and obeyed.
Selene moved closer so that she stood above them. “Sheridan. What did he tell you?”
“About what?”
“When is the last time you were with him?”
“I… yesterday. At the party.”
“You were supposed to stay with him.” A streak of red entered Selene’s voice. “To report back on whatever you observed.”
“I did. I was there whenever he wanted me—”
“And what about when others wanted you? From what Adora has told me, you’ve been spreading your attentions around.”
Her skin prickled, a frost of fear blooming. “Miss Selene—”
“I gave you a task,” Selene spat. “Play your part. Keep Sheridan content—and observed. Instead of doing that, you’re off with Max—Max, for goodness sake—and now Sheridan is leaving!”
Pity stiffened. “What?”
“He sent word this morning.” A vase of white flowers sat on a table nearby. Selene went over to it, plucked a dead leaf, and crumpled it in her fist. “He’s leaving and you’re carrying on however you please.”
“That’s not true! I did exactly what you told me to do!”
Selene tossed the ruined leaf away and snapped her fingers at Adora. “Look!”
Adora pressed a button set into the arm of the sofa. A screen flickered to life on the wall, cleverly hidden among the paintings.
“What—” Pity began. The sound was muted, but the headline scrolling beneath the picture of Sheridan was all the explanation she needed.
