CELL

/ SIX /

A large personality can be contained within a diminutive form.

Ego and physique are completely interchangeable, though the latter often finds it difficult to contain the latter. The smaller the person, the greater might be the self-image, to the point it can overflow, spreading like a filthy oil that sticks to all it touches.

What he saw was a woman, slight of figure, but overflowing of intent. Whether that was also indicative of an over-inflated sense of importance remained to be seen. She had shown the Wolf that she was in charge, yet changed tact immediately once they were alone. She was showing him he should listen, using her previous forcefulness to demonstrate she could be reasonable when needed, but also not if she decided.

he listened.

"That's better. I knew I could count on you."

Reasonable. Yes. Friendly. Another wolf, but in the clothing of a sheep.

She walked around the table he was laid upon, and he followed her with his eyes. Until she told him not to look, he wasn't going to take them off her.

She noticed.

"Relax," she said. "I just wanted to know you were amenable to my requests. We'll get along so much better if you are."

He blinked and glanced away to look around the room, but not looking at her felt dangerous. The throbbing between his legs and its connected ache in his gut demonstrated how much. She watched him and smiled.

"Do I have something on my face?" she asked, grinning. She laughed. "I'm just joking. Really, you can relax."

She wrapped a cuff around his upper arm and pressed a button on the blood pressure monitor's control pad. He listened to it inflating and wished he could disappear into the sound. It was a rumbling that he could imagine was distant thunder. A storm that had passed and was receding into the distance.

Unfortunately, he knew this storm was going nowhere. It would only increase in density.

"Excellent," the woman said, once the machine had done its work. "A few volts to the bollocks messed with your BP. I'm impressed."

The room was almost bare, except for the bed he was in, and a few medical looking monitors. Against one wall was a chair, and she pulled it across the floor, allowing it to screech as the legs dragged against the tiles.

"Love that sound," she said.

She sat down and crossed one leg over the other in a casual manner, with her forearm on her knee with her hand loose. She could have been in a pub beer garden with her friends, passing the time over a cocktail or cold pint of lager.

"You'll be confused, I'm sure," she said. "If you'd have been more in the mood to play last week, we'd have already had this conversation."

Last week? No, she was mistaken. She meant last night. Yesterday. It had been only a few hours, not days. The darkness had skewed his sense of time, but not by that much.

Had it?

"You can call me Fio... Dr Bradley."

Was that a mistake? She'd almost told him her first name, but stopped. Was she nicer than she seemed, wanting to make a connection but knowing she had to remain professional? If so, no matter what she'd just done to him, he could use that. Apart from the fact it would be good to have someone he could potentially talk she might be a source of information. Possibly, even a means to escape.

Fio...

It could only be Fiona, couldn't it? Dr Fiona Bradley. The name was unfamiliar to him, but that wasn't surprising. He was unfamiliar to him. He might know her, and she him. If so, she could be keeping it to herself for the same reason he couldn't remember anything.