It was never effortless to love Aaron Warner. He was a difficult teenage boy who seemed to forget a lot of the time that that was what he was-a teenage boy. He'd always felt that loving or even caring for him would be impossible for all the world to...
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JUST ONE MORE visit.
Castle got kind of mad at me this morning when I was having breakfast instead of interrogating Warner, but why can't a girl just have her waffles without anyone interrupting and demanding things from her? There's absolutely no reason. But, okay, I get why he did it. We don't have all the time in the world to get Winston and Brendan back.
So when the soldiers open the door to his little cell-room, I take a deep breath. This time, I'll get some real information out of him. No more personal stuff.
Warner sits on the mattress again, his breathing shallow as he looks around, alert. He's always ready to fight, always has a reaction. He's never calm and collected, he can only pretend to be such things. I know this because I know him.
His gaze flickers up and he opens his mouth to say something but I cut him off, "No distractions today, alright? No more weird-flirty-puppy-eyed Warner—I want the real one back. The one you kept hidden from me for six months."
He raises his eyebrows. "Puppy-eyed?"
I shrug. "Yes, it's very distracting."
He looks like he's fighting a smile.
"Stop that too,"
"Stop what?" he asks innocently. Except he's not innocent. He's anything but that. He's a man with a massive warning sign hanging above him; one that's screaming at me to run whilst I have the time. But I have to remind myself—this time it isn't about us. It was never supposed to be about us in the first place but we got distracted. Point is, I have to find out where the boys are. I just have to think of a tactic or something.
"How are you?" he questions.
"Nu-uh!" I shake my index finger at him like one would at a child. "You made me abandon my breakfast to come talk to you when you won't even give up any information. I ask the questions, got it?"
"Love, you really—"
"Oh, here we go again," I drop my arms in defeat, rolling my eyes and head simultaneously. "What were you going to say? Just let me guess"—I begin the next sentence with a mimicking of his deep voice—"Love, you really need to get better at this interrogating thing."
When I glance at him, he's grinning like a fucking Cheshire Cat.
"What?" I breathe. "Am I right or right?"
"Nearly," he admits. "But I would never say interrogating-thing." He actually cringes.
I scoff. "Right. I forgot—you're better than, like, the whole world, aren't you? So you'd say really fancy words that no one really understands. Words like. . ." An idea pops into my head and I have to stop myself from smiling proudly. "Inquisition," I repeat in that really deep, Warner voice.
He cocks his head amusedly. "Do I usually sound as I just had a thousand rats stuffed down my throat?"
No, actually, your voice is very hot. Stop, Mara. Bad Mara.
