@leoncyrille ❈ closed
With every bump they hit as they cruised around the city, the chain belonging to the handcuffs around his wrists rattled in what was a sound he would not soon forget. Combined with the sound of a man vomiting in the back of the police mobile, this made for an entirely surreal experience. For whatever reason, Monsieur Cyrille made the choice not to place Bhari back there with him, and for that he had no complaints.
Bhari had given up trying to explain his situation to the police chief, who seemed far more interested in sharing anecdotes about himself than setting Bhari free. And so he sat, obedient as a dog on a leash, watching the lamp posts go by.
The roads became unfamiliar in their appearance, and so unlike anywhere near the police station. In a rare moment of silence from the man beside him, he spoke up, albeit quietly. “Where are we going?”
