•Dichotomy•
|"A division or contrast between two things that are or are represented as being opposed or entirely different."|
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How many silhouettes can one trap in oneself? How many faces can a mask hide...
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The gates to the penitentiary lounge opened with a thud. It was composed of rustic iron that had not been polished over years.
Henry grimaced over the shrill sound. Claude walked over to the couch where two men and a woman were already seated, cheery in their stupor.
He sat down himself on the singular couch that faced the people across, his arms rested on the armrest.
"So, Mr. Walker. It's been a while since we had a proper talk, eh?", said Mr. Fartlek, the warden.
"Oh, don't trouble the young man now, warden. Piss down your temper a bit." another man named Mr. Pierson jibbed at him. He owned a law firm and was quite a successful lawyer in the town.
But what this man really had in his account that brought him hear today was the woman who was here, of whom he liked to act as a boyfriend of.
Claude smirked at him. This caught the attention of the woman sitting beside him in a maroon suit and all dolled up. "You certainly are a queer man, Maximus. Showing up in casual hoodie and trousers instead of some luxury suit. You should use all that wealth of yours sometime."
Claude's gaze snapped to the woman, who was the real person of power here, second only to him.
"I am glad you find me out of your tastes, Ms. Carol Jean."
"Oh, just Carol for you, honey. You are not much younger than me now. Age is just a number."
Henry frowned on her behaviour. Her partner did not seem to have a problem that she was openly flirting with some another man. How could he?
Under the mask of a pharmaceutical - company owner, she was actually operating a drug and trafficking racket all over the country. It was all sheer luck and brains that she had not been caught yet.
Claude saw it as none of his business. It was the police's and the government's job to prosecute criminals. He was just a medium that worked behind the curtains.
Claude sipped on the tea that was offered by an attendant. Well, not actually, just pretended to. You can never trust poison enough.
"Why don't we move straight over to why we requested to see you, Mr. Walker?", the warden interjected. "Ms. Jean here has come to us with an issue."
"What is it?"
"You see,", she continued, "One of our drug cartel's transportation information was snitched to the narcotics bureau by a rat. And we ended up losing it to government confiscation. I was just saved from being exposed by a hair's length."
Her glistening hands placed the glass of wine on the table, quite smoothly.
"It was an important one. All the imported drugs and samples that was produced from exotically rare extracts found with difficulty. Now, those pieces of shit are going to auction it for hefty sums."
