The silence was tense, the wound not yet visible but both were fully aware of it, blooming from the heart; the words that caused it still making the air tremble.
"I see, sir."
Those words cost Domovoi Butler more than anything else in his life had. His voice did not waiver, no matter how badly it wanted to, and his hands did not tremble with the emotion he felt. "Do you wish for me to fetch the phone, sir?"
"No. You may go and pack. I will call Madame Ko and make the arrangements." The other's voice was soft, almost a whisper. "I do not want to see you again. Not now, not when you leave. You will stay out of my way."
"Yes, sir." He stood straight and nodded curtly, then turned and left.
There was nothing to say.
Domovoi Butler stood in the room he had called his own for fifteen years. It had his books, his equipment, his bed, his clothes, it had everything that mattered in it.
Except the one thing that really mattered. The one thing he couldn't take with him.
As he packed his clothes, laying his kevlar vest into the suitcase, he could imagine the conversation going on right now in the adjoining suite. The childish voice demanding a replacement be sent immediately, ready to assume duties at nine tomorrow morning. The soft, lightly accented tones of Madame Ko as she asked why a replacement was needed.
He didn't know what the answer would be. It wouldn't be the truth, though he wasn't entirely sure what the truth was. He didn't question things a lot, it wasn't his job to contradict his charge.
Fifteen years, he had lived for one purpose. And now, his entire life had just been ripped out from under his feet.
Domovoi Butler was not accustomed to being out of control, but that was what it felt like.
He packed his spare clips into the pockets of the suitcase and zipped it up, setting it aside. He would not be able to take most of it with him, he had no where to take his belongings. He didn't own a house, he had never contemplated buying one.
It was one of those things he had never questioned. Black is black, the sky is up, and he would live in Fowl Manor until the day he died in the line of duty.
Except now, the fundaments of his world had been changed on him. His charge was alive, and he was being sent away. Back to Madame Ko and then, who knew what then? He would probably be reassigned, snapped up quickly, his reputation preceded him, and then he'd have to try and explain why he was no longer in the service of the Fowls.
And he wasn't sure why not. Not exactly.
He sat on his bed, only his bed until morning, and stared at the window. The room seemed cold.
He wouldn't take another job. He couldn't. His mind would always being wandering, coming back to this place.
What would happen to Juliet? Would she be moved on as well? Surely not, Mrs Fowl had come to depend on Juliet's presence. Surely she would be allowed to stay, despite her brother's absence.
He undressed slowly, folding his suit just the way he had been taught for travel, packing it away. He left on his undershirt and boxers, just in case he was called upon one last time during the night.
He slid into bed, staring at the open curtains. The moon hung heavy overhead, bloated and angry. It gleamed on his Sig Sauer, resting in his hand. He slid it under the pillow.
He got up, closed the curtains, and got back into bed. He tossed uncomfortably, settling on his side to stare at the wall.
He wondered what was happening in the other room now. Was he continuing with his work, as though nothing had ever happened, as though those words had never been spoken? Was he watching his web sites, feeling nothing?
Or was he staring at the wall, face cold and heart bleeding, like he himself was?