Whoops! It’s Wednesday, isn’t it? I really have no excuse. Writing was going well yesterday–that point in the story where you’re at the end of the downhill part of the ride, flying fast with your arms out to the wind. Only a few scenes left now, then I can start combing through the story for nits to pick. The Editor in Question has the synopsis to look at, so I’m chewing my fingernails over it.
I’m really mean to Julian throughout this, except I keep giving him opportunities to say no, and he keeps turning them down. Silly man.
Leo grunted and stepped away to give Julian room to stand up. “You’re sure you’ll be all right in there by yourself?”
“I’ll be fine. They’re not going to do anything but pictures and the video. Find that database, Leo. I’m feeling pretty sick about this afternoon.”
Leo grabbed his arm hard. “Do you want to call it off? I can have HRT here in an hour.”
“An hour’s too late. And I’m damn well not wasting the time you’ve spent here or the beatings I’ve taken over a half hour’s discomfort.” Discomfort. Ha, funny man. He wished he’d figured out how this operation was going to play out before he said yes. Or maybe not. He could see how an older agent would have trouble passing here. And Julian had always been an ends-justify-the-means kind of guy. He wanted this ring broken. No, not broken. Pulverized. Nuked from orbit, and then danced on by ninety-nine hookers in fuck me pumps. Vulnerability made Julian uncomfortable and angry, and this role was nothing but. He’d do just about anything to end it, and fast.