"What--"

Rage, like potent venom, drips off of her tongue. But disbelief and familiarity hit hard, and she stares back into the face of a man she'd long thought forgotten. It was peculiar how old flames seemed to keep cropping back up. Hoenn truly was a shithole.

"Fuck off."

But his hand is on her arm and she's already made a scene enough. And, given Laurence's cold shoulder and pointed glare, chances are she'd have better luck with the crimson beauty than the airhead.

"At least do something."

Her threats become weaker and weaker as time goes on and as Sénon pulls her further away. The door shuts behind them and she glares at the man, pulling her arm out of his grasp if he were kind enough to let go.

"I don't plan on staying."

But what he says next makes her blood boil. It comes with a torrent of grief and fear, and she lashes out with her words because she's already violently ripped her arm away from him.

"What do you mean, sorry? You were supposed to protect him, and-- and now I'm being told that he's dead. That someone murdered him, that-- that--"

The information she spills is probably not something she's supposed to know. The file was confidential, who knew if what was publically announced was that he'd been murdered. She couldn't remember, she hadn't seen the news reports, hadn't heard, hadn't--

"He's gone, Sénon. He's gone and none of you have done anything about it!"

Laurence Anderson Sénon Game

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