Observer's POV:
I place my coffee mug down, as I sigh looking at 11. She's got quite a pain tolerance, I'll give her that, but she might drop out of the candidate list if she keeps on going at a snail's pace.
My hand snakes towards the coffee, that now I would just call gasoline to my on-the-verge-of-breaking engine. I hear a 'ding' from my phone as its screen comes alive. "Orange alert." I read out loud. My lips are now pressed in a thin line, as the device has just informed me about the Orange alert. There's a rebellion out of control.
I took a long sip of my gasoline, as I turned the chair to face the illuminating screen floating before me. I placed my hand in my hair, as my eyes hover over the screen. 11,7,3,21 and 24. These huh? I slide my hand out of my hair as I press my elbows down on the chair's arm to prop my body up.
They won't send the current defence batch to check on the . They want to 'test' the upcoming batch. My fingers comb through my hair, stopping midway as I grab onto the roots. Corners of my eyes creased, as I let out possibly the millionth sigh.
Then letting go of my hair, my hand dangles from the chair. My eyes focused on the static screen before me.
Will the games be ended halfway?
