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Cerulean Sins :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 7 из 352I'm probably the only animator in this country that can raise someone this old without using a human sacrifice. It's sort of a seller's market, if you catch my drift."
"In my own way, Ms. Blake, I am as good at my job as you are at yours." He tried to look humble and failed. He looked pleased with himself, all the way to those ordinary, and frightening, brown eyes. "I can pay, Ms. Blake, never fear."
I mentioned an outrageous figure. He never flinched. He started to reach into the inside of his jacket. I said, "Don't."
"My credit card, Ms. Blake, nothing more." He took his hands out of his jacket and held them, fingers spread, so I could see them clearly.
"You can finish the paperwork and pay in the outer office. I've got other appointments."
He almost smiled. "Of course." He stood. I stood. Neither of us offered to shake hands. He hesitated at the door; I stopped a ways back, not following as closely as I normally do. Room to maneuver, you know.
"When can you do the job?"
"I'm booked solid this week. I might be able to squeeze you in next Wednesday. Maybe next Thursday."
"What happened to next Monday and Tuesday?" he asked.
I shrugged. "Booked up."
"You said, and I quote, 'I'm booked solid this week. Then you mentioned next Wednesday."
I shrugged again. There was a time when I wasn't good at lying, even now I'm not great at it, but not for the same reasons. I felt my eyes going flat and empty, as I said, "I meant to say I was booked up for most of the next two weeks."
He stared at me, hard enough to make me want to squirm. I fought off the urge and just gave him blank, vaguely friendly eyes.
"Next Tuesday is the night of the full moon," he said in a quiet voice.
I blinked at him, fighting to keep the surprise off my face, and I think I succeeded, but I failed on my body language. My shoulders tensed, my hands flexed. Most people noticed your face, not the rest of you, but Harlan was a man who would notice. Damn it.
"So it's the full moon, yippee-skippy, what of it?" My voice was as matter-of-fact as I could make it.
He gave that small smile of his. "You're not very good at being coy, Ms. Blake."
"No, I'm not, but since I'm not being coy, that's not a problem."
"Ms. Blake," he said, voice almost cajoling, "please, do not insult my intelligence."
I thought about saying, but it's so easy, but didn't. First, it wasn't easy at all; second, I was a little nervous about where this line of questioning was going. But I was not going to help him by volunteering information. Say less, it irritates people.
"I haven't insulted your intelligence.
"In my own way, Ms. Blake, I am as good at my job as you are at yours." He tried to look humble and failed. He looked pleased with himself, all the way to those ordinary, and frightening, brown eyes. "I can pay, Ms. Blake, never fear."
I mentioned an outrageous figure. He never flinched. He started to reach into the inside of his jacket. I said, "Don't."
"My credit card, Ms. Blake, nothing more." He took his hands out of his jacket and held them, fingers spread, so I could see them clearly.
"You can finish the paperwork and pay in the outer office. I've got other appointments."
He almost smiled. "Of course." He stood. I stood. Neither of us offered to shake hands. He hesitated at the door; I stopped a ways back, not following as closely as I normally do. Room to maneuver, you know.
"When can you do the job?"
"I'm booked solid this week. I might be able to squeeze you in next Wednesday. Maybe next Thursday."
"What happened to next Monday and Tuesday?" he asked.
I shrugged. "Booked up."
"You said, and I quote, 'I'm booked solid this week. Then you mentioned next Wednesday."
I shrugged again. There was a time when I wasn't good at lying, even now I'm not great at it, but not for the same reasons. I felt my eyes going flat and empty, as I said, "I meant to say I was booked up for most of the next two weeks."
He stared at me, hard enough to make me want to squirm. I fought off the urge and just gave him blank, vaguely friendly eyes.
"Next Tuesday is the night of the full moon," he said in a quiet voice.
I blinked at him, fighting to keep the surprise off my face, and I think I succeeded, but I failed on my body language. My shoulders tensed, my hands flexed. Most people noticed your face, not the rest of you, but Harlan was a man who would notice. Damn it.
"So it's the full moon, yippee-skippy, what of it?" My voice was as matter-of-fact as I could make it.
He gave that small smile of his. "You're not very good at being coy, Ms. Blake."
"No, I'm not, but since I'm not being coy, that's not a problem."
"Ms. Blake," he said, voice almost cajoling, "please, do not insult my intelligence."
I thought about saying, but it's so easy, but didn't. First, it wasn't easy at all; second, I was a little nervous about where this line of questioning was going. But I was not going to help him by volunteering information. Say less, it irritates people.
"I haven't insulted your intelligence.