Violet tapped her foot impatiently on the ugly grey rubber floor of the interrogation room. It was an unfortunate turn of events that had led her here, with her arms shackled behind her back, but she had never been a pessimistic person. When she thought about tomorrow, she didn’t envision herself being locked behind bars, and so she wouldn’t be.
When the door opened and Dayn Ira stepped in, Violet was almost delighted to see him, but then remembered what he was actually like. The fact that he was a non-officer with enough leverage to get himself to “interrogate” (it wouldn’t be much of an interrogation, seeing as Violet was definitely guilty and was rarely ashamed of her actions) her. She supposed they were rivals of some kind. A very one-sided rivalry, though. Not as excited as the word would suggest.
He took took the seat across from her. Violet had to hold back from rolling her eyes openly at the smug look on Dayn’s face.
“After years and years of being on opposing sides, we finally meet.” He said, “How is it that we never met.”
Violet lifted her chin, determined to not let the cuffs that restricted her hands behind her back give the impression that she was in any way defeated.
“You never had anything that I wanted,” she said airily, “I don’t bother with people who can’t mean anything to me.”
“Nothing you want?” he quirked an eyebrow. Violet smirked.
“You can’t imagine that, can you?”
“You’ve robbed plenty of people who were less off than me.”
“Are you insulted? Don’t be. I never steal from people who can’t miss it. It’s hardly your fault everything that’s interesting about you is the only thing keeping you relevant.”
“I’m not materialistic,” Dayn laughed, but there was an edge to his voice that betrayed a hit nerve.
“I’m talking about your reputation. That’s the only thing you got worth having. If only to be able to do whatever the hell I want and still be hailed a hero. What would you be without it? Without the adoration, the righeous indignation, the blind trust of a whole nation? Just another man. Another me.”
“A man that caught you.”
“You didn’t catch me. I made a mistake and you were at the right place at the right time. You were just lucky.”
“The outcome remains the same,” Dayn took on the smug expression again, covinced of having had the last word.
“On that, we can agree.”
“There’s no point denying anything to the court,” Dayn’s voice took a business like tone. He was attempting to make this look like any other arrest, Violet was sure. But she wasn’t just another arrest, wasn’t she; and he couldn’t hide his gidiness of having the person that has alluded him for years shackled in front of him.
“I wasn’t planning to.” she conceded.
“You’re going to prison for a very long time.”
“I should hope so, if the justice system is correct.” Violet grinned. Dayn’s giddy smirk turned to a frown. Violet chastised herself for being so obvious.
“What does that mean? What are you up to?” He leaned forwards in his chair, his elbows resting on the table, his fingers interlocked.
“Dayn Ira, I’m shackled with my hands behind my back in a room with a steel bullet-proof door, a 6 inch thick bullet-proof glass window with bars on the other side, and six guards waiting outside with tranquillizer darts to shoot the moment I make a wrong move. What could I possibly be up to?”
“How do you know about the guards?”
“They were there when they brought me in and weren’t subtle. Good to know they’re still there, though.”
“Oh.” Dayn looked away, awkward at the obvious answer. Violet chuckled.
There was a tense silence that was just Dayn looking at Violet suspiciously and she returning the look with an easy and relaxed smile.
“So how’ve you been? I heard they’re getting you a statue on the Grand Square. Befitting of a monarch, some would say.”
Dayn narrowed his eyes at the casual turn she steered the conversation in.
“They have. I didn’t have a lot of say in it.”
“I’m sure you’re flattered.” Dayn leaned back in his chair, his firngers playing with the handcuff key, apparently absent minded, well outside her reach. It was such a subtle mockery that Violet couldn’t help but appreciate the gesture.
“I’m sure I am. I’m just not sure gold’s my colour.”
“Pitty, I know it’s mine. Maybe I’ll commandeer it one day. You can miss that.”
If you’ve read this far, thank you for indulging me. I write of and on when the brain allows it but it rarely allows a whole story to get out so I end up with short and disjointed scenes like this one. I thought, might as well put them out there. You never know if someone will enjoy them. Cheers.