[he thought the poor directors were being treated like puppets on a string just as much as everyone else was from the very beginning. SUCKS TO BE A DIRECTOR]
But they've always avoided talking about whatever Pinkie is. "Mud with the ability to fuck up our lives."
[a huff. he trusts the directors so he doesn't think they're lying on purpose, but. . . you know]
And I guess they were. I guess nine bodies over the course of two weeks was enough?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[he toys with the postcard between his fingers, expression pensive]
Did the directors know that spilling more blood would feed the-- the snake?
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[At least, he doesn't get the sense there was a secret plan all along.]
. . . Anyway, messages just got through today, and only one person died. So something must've been different, somehow.
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[he thought the poor directors were being treated like puppets on a string just as much as everyone else was from the very beginning. SUCKS TO BE A DIRECTOR]
But they've always avoided talking about whatever Pinkie is. "Mud with the ability to fuck up our lives."
[a huff. he trusts the directors so he doesn't think they're lying on purpose, but. . . you know]
And I guess they were. I guess nine bodies over the course of two weeks was enough?
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[Just kind of vague, like he doesn't agree or disagree, as he finishes pouring his drink.]
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[he knows he can't outright ask "do you know who killed Dimitri," but. . . he can ask--]
How are you doing?
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[Hmm. Considering for a long minute.]
I think we're gonna all get out of here. I really do.
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Yeah. Of course we are.
No doubts about it.
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[Because he doesn't mean he doesn't want to share it. He means he can't.]
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Huh. . .
Do you want me to share it at trial?
[because he isn't sure he should]