Could always be that Avebury’d nicked off with Fest’s journal. Wouldn’t match with his usual methods, as far as Sabbat was aware, but didn’t mean it wasn’t a possibility. Hells, could even be that the red-eye brat had dropped it here after doing some snooping of his own – wouldn’t be the stupidest thing Sabbat’d seen a would-be spy do, and the kid was definitely scatter-brained enough to have managed that kind of fuck-up.
But, looking around at the rest of the gear strewn across the floor, the piles of penny-dreadfuls, and the cut of the clothes in a heap in the corner, there was only one explanation which seemed in any way fucking plausible.
Wrong pissing bastarding cunting room. He’d spent gods-knew how long on that fucking lock, and what did he have to fucking show for it but time wasted that he couldn’t afford to fucking waste, and-
Louder than he’d meant to be – loud enough that if anyone was out in the corridor he’d almost certainly given away his position – but it was that or punch the wall, and putting a dent in the plaster’d be harder to cover up even if he didn’t end up breaking his knuckles in the process.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!”
Stupid. Too much noise, drawing too much attention, might as well stand up and announce yourself as a fucking thief. But it worked enough to clear his head, drive back the red, let him actually think for long enough to put together a new plan.(more…)