08-04-2015, 12:10 AM
The thought of needing to actually interrogate their target - This man, whom she still wasn't entirely clear on who he was or why he was important - Had completely slipped the Vestal's mind.
"Unacceptable," she responded. "Also, I'm repulsed beyond words."
As Victor opened his mouth to respond, Agnès offered little more than a glare. She was almost completely set on disliking this person, who, based on a first observation, seemed... Less than pleasant. While interrogation often did require force, Agnès feared what this man who claimed assassination was a hobby of all things would do if left unchecked. And while Shay did seem like the type who could keep him in check, she had the feeling it would be best to take on this duty herself. Besides, it didn't seem like it would harm anyone to try and help.
"I will shoulder this burden alone," Agnès finished. At that she turned around and stormed off. Moments later she returned to the pair, who hadn't seemed to move. "Excuse me... Which way is the interrogation room?"
After a walk that felt like it took ages, during which she received occasional concerned glances from Shay, the trio arrived at the interrogation room, or an observation room connecting to the interrogation room proper. The room seemed to fit the rest of the palace's style, though a presumably one-way glass window led into a dark room. It was dark to the point where Agnès couldn't even see what the inside of the room looked like, though surely the room hadn't been used before. So she hoped, at least, and furthermore she hoped it wouldn't be gory.
"Are you sure about this, Agnès? You don't have to do this," Shay said at last. "Victor and I can handle this," he added. Agnès shook her head rather gently, then walked to the door leading to the interrogation room proper - A metal door of some sort next to the blocky one-way window. "Leave all to me," she responded as she opened the door and stepped through.
A light on the ceiling of the interrogation room turned on when the door shut behind the Vestal. The first thing that met her eyes was a man in rags with buzz-cut dark brown hair, a beard gone out of control and a pair of dark blue eyes, like the heart of a hurricane. The features on his face were sharp, his shoulders were broad and his rather impressive presence, even in this position, was certainly because of his height and rather impressive build. Her eyes then wandered to chains around his wrists, ankles, waist and neck, which guaranteed that he wasn't going anywhere. And, as she finished examining him, his eyes met hers. She was surprised for but a moment before she returned a bitter stare in response to his own. There was a number of ways Agnès could handle this... But the first method that came to mind seemed best.
"I do not want to trouble you any more than I must, so I'm going to ask you a few questions. You are going to give me answers. How does that sound?" Agnès chimed and offered a rather friendly smile.
"I'm not telling you anything. Do your worst," the man hissed. And before Agnès knew it, her fist had connected with the man's nose.
She recoiled in horror as she looked at the man and then at her hand. Then back to the man, whose nose was bleeding. She gasped and knelt at his side, hurriedly trying to get whatever White Magic she had in her going. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to hit you so hard," she whispered with worry clear in her voice. The man seemed dazed from the impact still, which surprised her. As the bleeding stopped, Agnès looked around for something to clean up the line of blood that was now dripping from the man's nose across the lower half of his face and off his chin. "You little--... Call that a punch?" His last word was punctuated by a drop of blood flying from the man's lower lip and onto Agnès' nose.
And then Agnès felt her knuckles connect with the man's temple.
"Supplies from Cor'scant... South road'a Carrie. Hree thours..." He said airily. And, a moment later, he was unconscious. She stood up, walked to the door rather woodenly, absentmindedly stroking her knuckles on her punching hand with her other hand, then she opened the door while shaking her hand around loosely on her wrist.
"I apologize. I should have left that up to you," she finished as she emerged from the interrogation room with the two observers gawking at her with wide eyes as she waved her glowing green offhand over her sore punching hand.
"Unacceptable," she responded. "Also, I'm repulsed beyond words."
As Victor opened his mouth to respond, Agnès offered little more than a glare. She was almost completely set on disliking this person, who, based on a first observation, seemed... Less than pleasant. While interrogation often did require force, Agnès feared what this man who claimed assassination was a hobby of all things would do if left unchecked. And while Shay did seem like the type who could keep him in check, she had the feeling it would be best to take on this duty herself. Besides, it didn't seem like it would harm anyone to try and help.
"I will shoulder this burden alone," Agnès finished. At that she turned around and stormed off. Moments later she returned to the pair, who hadn't seemed to move. "Excuse me... Which way is the interrogation room?"
. . . .
After a walk that felt like it took ages, during which she received occasional concerned glances from Shay, the trio arrived at the interrogation room, or an observation room connecting to the interrogation room proper. The room seemed to fit the rest of the palace's style, though a presumably one-way glass window led into a dark room. It was dark to the point where Agnès couldn't even see what the inside of the room looked like, though surely the room hadn't been used before. So she hoped, at least, and furthermore she hoped it wouldn't be gory.
"Are you sure about this, Agnès? You don't have to do this," Shay said at last. "Victor and I can handle this," he added. Agnès shook her head rather gently, then walked to the door leading to the interrogation room proper - A metal door of some sort next to the blocky one-way window. "Leave all to me," she responded as she opened the door and stepped through.
A light on the ceiling of the interrogation room turned on when the door shut behind the Vestal. The first thing that met her eyes was a man in rags with buzz-cut dark brown hair, a beard gone out of control and a pair of dark blue eyes, like the heart of a hurricane. The features on his face were sharp, his shoulders were broad and his rather impressive presence, even in this position, was certainly because of his height and rather impressive build. Her eyes then wandered to chains around his wrists, ankles, waist and neck, which guaranteed that he wasn't going anywhere. And, as she finished examining him, his eyes met hers. She was surprised for but a moment before she returned a bitter stare in response to his own. There was a number of ways Agnès could handle this... But the first method that came to mind seemed best.
"I do not want to trouble you any more than I must, so I'm going to ask you a few questions. You are going to give me answers. How does that sound?" Agnès chimed and offered a rather friendly smile.
"I'm not telling you anything. Do your worst," the man hissed. And before Agnès knew it, her fist had connected with the man's nose.
She recoiled in horror as she looked at the man and then at her hand. Then back to the man, whose nose was bleeding. She gasped and knelt at his side, hurriedly trying to get whatever White Magic she had in her going. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to hit you so hard," she whispered with worry clear in her voice. The man seemed dazed from the impact still, which surprised her. As the bleeding stopped, Agnès looked around for something to clean up the line of blood that was now dripping from the man's nose across the lower half of his face and off his chin. "You little--... Call that a punch?" His last word was punctuated by a drop of blood flying from the man's lower lip and onto Agnès' nose.
And then Agnès felt her knuckles connect with the man's temple.
"Supplies from Cor'scant... South road'a Carrie. Hree thours..." He said airily. And, a moment later, he was unconscious. She stood up, walked to the door rather woodenly, absentmindedly stroking her knuckles on her punching hand with her other hand, then she opened the door while shaking her hand around loosely on her wrist.
"I apologize. I should have left that up to you," she finished as she emerged from the interrogation room with the two observers gawking at her with wide eyes as she waved her glowing green offhand over her sore punching hand.
Quote:Hree thours equals three hours, in case you were unable to put that together. Silly, silly creature.