[ Between tether and twine, Spock and Jim have had their fair share of captures in the past few nights. Never one without the other, Jim had been the bait and Spock the inevitable kite. He was faster, surer of foot — his lungs were primed for thinner atmospheres, for ever fiercer hunts.
Claude may have known the name of his people, but there is no equivalent for learning what they might do on the fly. He'd paced himself enough for Claude to keep up, for Jim to take the back alleys that terminated before their den proper where they'd kept their quarry in the meantime. The drape of his robes is enough to signal the intent to bank left or bank right, the scent of salt and surf ever thickening the further they go on.
It isn't a surprise, that they have chosen that warehouse of theirs — Spock and Jim both know on both ends of the proverbial line that Claude is familiar with the layout, but perhaps not as familiar with the run. Not as familiar, perhaps, with the perceived dead-end once they reach the front doors.
And, perhaps, not as familiar with the way one can sneak up from behind.
Spock turns upon his heel, not at all out of breath and dark eyes bright before the entry, Jim flitting in to drive Claude further toward the middle of the backroad.
With one in front and one behind, there is no notable exit unless one attempts to shimmy through the narrow gaps between the buildings that surround them.
not your cask of amontillado (claude).
Claude may have known the name of his people, but there is no equivalent for learning what they might do on the fly. He'd paced himself enough for Claude to keep up, for Jim to take the back alleys that terminated before their den proper where they'd kept their quarry in the meantime. The drape of his robes is enough to signal the intent to bank left or bank right, the scent of salt and surf ever thickening the further they go on.
It isn't a surprise, that they have chosen that warehouse of theirs — Spock and Jim both know on both ends of the proverbial line that Claude is familiar with the layout, but perhaps not as familiar with the run. Not as familiar, perhaps, with the perceived dead-end once they reach the front doors.
And, perhaps, not as familiar with the way one can sneak up from behind.
Spock turns upon his heel, not at all out of breath and dark eyes bright before the entry, Jim flitting in to drive Claude further toward the middle of the backroad.
With one in front and one behind, there is no notable exit unless one attempts to shimmy through the narrow gaps between the buildings that surround them.
And what, really, is Claude to do? ]