Sneaky

Chapter 79

Eve's POV

Nothing strikes more fear into the heart's of men, than the unknown.

When people are afraid, they're irrational. But that can be used to your advantage, if you know the right points to press.

I didn't say a word, even with Daryl gone from the room.

Merely leaned against the table across the small room from Randall, and motioned for the boy to continue his babblings.

He didn't need much prompting as he rambled on for almost another two hours. Telling me about his group, and spilling more than he thought with his reckless language.

When you hear as much bullshit as I do, your skills of sorting through it max out.

Randall's not a great liar in the first place. Maybe good enough to fool some, but not someone as adept at taking cues from body language just as much as the actual words being said.

Some people aspire to this sort of skill, but it doesn't work quite like they think it does, I imagine.

Telling when someone is lying, is like speaking to someone whose native language is not your own. It's obvious when they mispronounce a word, or think it means something else, and you know that's not what they meant but you can pull from context to figure out what they're actually saying.

At least, that's how it is for me. I can't speak for anyone else. I am by no means a professional at this but I've been doing it for the better part of 20 years.

Just as I predicted, the kid's a lot more chatty now that Daryl's out of the room, and his face isn't being beaten in every ten seconds.

I don't have to do a thing to the boy, other than stare him down, listen.

If he strays from the information I'm after, all I have to do is give my blade a little twirl; let the steel catch the light and off he goes. Herding thoughts like cattle is easier than I thought it was gonna be.

This is why psychological warfare is so dangerous. And so much more effective.

I've been in the corner this whole time, listening, thinking. I knew torture wasn't gonna work. Torture never reveals solid info, but the anticipation of pain is much worse than pain itself.

Randall is all too talkative; I noticed it during Daryl's go at him.

He talks about as much as I don't. Even now, rambling on about some dog that inadvertently saved his life when all this started.

If I just let him talk and he'll give me anything I want. Whether he means to or not.

And the poor kid can finally rest.

It's been hard not getting involved up to this point. I was against hurting the boy from the start— still am.

Daryl's way is through his fist, mine is much less invasive. And leaves far less damage.

I only wish I could've used my way without Daryl having to scare the kid like this first.

I shouldn't have lost my head when he mentioned that little camp. I let Daryl beat on him when I shouldn't have.

I may not know what it's like to be in Randall's position, exactly, but I can't help putting myself in his shoes.

It's fairly obvious I'm the only one who's bothered to look at things from his point of view.

Otherwise the others wouldn't be so rough or suspicious of the kid. That in and of itself has its perks and drawbacks, but there's a difference between being cautious and what we've done to this boy.