#moncassian

He drives fast and it feels good: frightening enough to make her focus on the present rather than the recent past or the as-yet blank future. They don’t even use the Expressway but the lower routes, between buildings that loom close with the empty promise of destruction because somehow he always avoids a crash. He’s done this before. He’s very skilled. She’s never experienced anything like it; had no idea that the limo was capable of this kind of speed. She’s never felt before the gravity that pushes her down into the seat, like forcefully placed hands pressing upon her shoulders.

A day of surprises all round, she thinks, and supposes that it’s the shock of it all that brings an ironic laugh to her lips. He doesn’t hear it. She glances occasionally at the back of his head through the dividing window. The tiny bun in his hair. It grounds her, just a little, looking at that. The ridiculous detail. A strange calmness settles upon her. For now, she’s content to be driven.

She’s almost disappointed when they suddenly slow, land at a public parking lot near the Ambassadorial residences. Near to her embassy, her home, in fact. Perrin, she thinks, then the thought is gone; at least for now.

“We need a new ride,” the Friend who kills but saved her says curtly, and she stays slumped in his coat in what she’s already thinking of as her old limo while he does something with the door of the airspeeder they are parked behind. She can’t see much from her position but it looks like a professional tool of some kind that he’s using on the doors. A thief’s tool.

One of Luthen’s operatives. She had known, finally, about Aldhani and Vel - what he has them doing - and Luthen’s faith in this one can’t help but make her feel a little better because she is at last aware that he would have no need to lie to her about this. She’s seen the evidence now, of course. The Friend clearly has done this before too. He knows what he’s doing. When he comes to fetch her she goes willingly this time and shakes off his hand when he tries to take hers. It’s fine, I’m fine, and I don’t need to look at you this time or for you to touch me, she thinks, vaguely. Still, he stands close, observant, while she gets in for the next stage of this journey of increments, each another step away from what she knows for sure now is her former life.