daily – 80
The jumble of shoes and legs and badges suddenly comes clear, just as Hampton releases Reynolds toward the open metal bookshelf at the back of the room. Flying backwards over Hampton’s squared hip, Reynolds slams into the framing with a crash that muffles its way into my head. Several code manuals, random papers, a few pictures and bunch of other crap I keep leaving on the shelves when I walk in instead of putting away properly comes down around him.
He’s not down for a moment before he scrambles right back up with cold anger in his eyes, this time directed at Hampton.
It’s Hampton who speaks first, though, pointing firmly at him. “Don’t talk. Don’t even open your mouth. Go downstairs and wait in the car. Now.”