Never let me go

30: Iris Holt

30: Iris Holt

She gets up, turns around and walks over to the washing basin at the corner of the room. Though she feels like she wants to run there she forces herself to walk slowly. Once there she bends over spitting into the basin. Pushing back the reflex to gag, she straightens. Behind her she hears the sound of a zipper being pulled up and a rustle of fabric as he gets to his feet.

"You're pretty good at that" She turns to him as he digs underneath his jacket with his hand. His wolf eyes meet hers as he holds a thick envelope out to her. "Here, you've earned these." He smiles smugly. She accepts the papers, and the smell of his breath washes over her face. Sour, just like the old musty taste of him.

"You're not too hard on the eyes either. A young woman like you could rise even in this shithole, provided that she had the right attitude. I could help you, got friends in all the right places." Ludvig Engels is not as tall as Reiner is, but then few are. Around thirty, he looks strong and he is comely she supposes. But he smiles with his teeth bared like a wolf snarling at its prey, and his eyes are cold and piercing.

"And you'd do all that out of the kindness of your heart?" she asks, though she knows the answer already.

"Nothing's for free love, and there's only one kind of payment I want from you. Who knows, you might even like it." He grabs her, one arm gripping her around the back and the other he tries to push down into the front of her trousers. She twists out of his grasp and lifts the envelope up to her face, pretending to read the letters scribbled on it.

"I need to think about it."

"Don't wait too long." His eyes flash angrily, and he bares his teeth as his mouth twists into a humorless grin. "You have an expiration date just like anyone else. And don't come crawling to me if you get disfigured in battle. No one will open their door to an ugly wench." With that he turns and walks to the door, not bothering to say goodbye as he exits the office.

The moment he is gone she walks to the shelf in the corner by the window, and grabs a decanter from amongst the various glass bottles on the shelf. Putting the envelope down, she uses both her shaking hands to fill a glass to the brim. She puts it to her lips and downs the whiskey in one go. The liquid feels hot down her throat, burning away the disgusting taste in her mouth. She feels the alcohol working its way into her blood a minute later, and she welcomes the fleeting feeling of floating through lukewarm water. Moments later she feels as if a wind stirs up in her system, lashing at her with strong invisible hands as all her senses flare like fireworks against a dark skyline. Bitterly she wishes that the tranquility and the lull of ordinary drunkenness would come back. "Nothing's for free love, we gotta pay our way" she thinks, and it is Engel's voice she hears whispering in her head. She fills another glass to the brim, picks up the envelope and presses it to her chest. She sips the whiskey, suppressing the urge to grimace at the taste.

Her ears pick up on the sound of footsteps, and she is reminded that there are more people on the way. After momentarily putting her drink down she tucks the envelope into the back of her trousers and conceals it underneath her low-cut camisole and her uniform jacket. She picks up her drink again, and listens as the person outside walks up to the door. She has her back to him, but she knows who has come from the sound of his footfalls. Just as she takes another sip of her drink, he enters.

"Corporal Holt"

She turns to him.

"Good morning Warchief"

He eyes her drink with cool interest.

"Are we celebrating something?"

She lifts her glass and shoots him an equally cool look.