Ros wasn't used to being bored. She always had a mission to complete, a conversation to have, a glare to give. But as she twiddled a pen idly between her thumb and forefinger, she felt the largeness of the hotel and the silence that filled it weighing down on her like a tonne of bricks. A part of her wished she could be Zaf, who always get to head up the dirty tricks campaigns. As she sat here he was probably tampering with room service orders to irk the Japanese or not sending up any cleaners to the French for the second morning in a row.
Adam would be pacing the floors, escorting people where necessary, taking status reports.
Ruth was probably trawling a computer for fragments of information about Trainer Styles and how best to target him next.
But Ros was bored.
The telephone at reception trilled. She reached out and responded in a fake pleasant voice: "Havensworth Hotel, Debra Soames speaking, how can I help you?"
"It's Jo. We need to get onto Styles' laptop. Did Adam give you the disc?"
"Certainly ma'am. Right away." Ros hung up the phone and grabbed the hockey disk that Adam had handed her about twenty minutes ago with a smile.
Her heels clicked to the lift, red fingernails selecting the button that would take her to the third floor where the Americans were residing. Ros rapped her knuckles softly against the mahogany door and was met instantly by Styles' guard.
"I've brought something," she said politely, peering around the guard's shoulder to catch Styles' attention.
"Ah, Miss Soames!" The American welcomed Ros in and encouraged her to sit down on his sofa. She handed him the hockey disc and he thanked her, slipping it into his laptop and clicking play. He patted her knee as a way of thanks, his hand lingering on her leg a little longer than necessary. Ros felt her body freeze but she offered a smile before standing quickly and excusing herself.
As Ros trotted back to reception, her fake receptionist smile was fading. She sat back down behind the tall, glossy reception desk; her fingers brushing her knee where Styles' hand had been. Ros bit down hard on her lip and wish the boredom was back to overwhelm her again, instead of an emotion she wasn't used to handling that caused a sharp ache in the back of her throat.
"You said I was scared of everything."
As a little girl, when her father would shout at her mother, Ros would crawl into a corner of the huge house and close her eyes and pretend she was somewhere else. The adult Ros was scornful and told herself that it wouldn't help. But just for a second, she squeezed her eyes shut and thought of being back at The Grid where she felt somewhat at home, with Adam by her side.
The phone trilled. Ros robotically reached out.
"Havensworth Hotel, Debra Soames speaking, how can I help you?"