The panel slid open and a small but muscled female stood, looking decidedly impatient. Her short red hair was chopped in various strange angles, as if someone had punished her by removing its length. A hoop of metal hung above one eye, secured through the skin of her brow. Dark red lips opened in a sneer and Vic found himself recoil from the tiny angry wench.
“Vic!” she said, “It’s almost over. Where have you been?” She stopped speaking and reached out to grasp his arm, her grip was vice-like. “What’s wrong?” Her voice changed instantly from anger to concern. He realized this woman must be a servant of some kind, although the way she had initially spoken seemed to deny that. He listened as she spoke, trying to grasp what his Cage was saying. Her breath came quick and for the first time he realized that the body was completely in sink with his mind. Hallelujah!
“I don’t know,” she gasped. “I was in the elevator, feeling great. Then out of nowhere I had a panic attack. I was really scared.” Her voice was shaky, yet he still found the silky timbre soothing. “I’m feeling okay now. So you can let me go.” She shook her arm for effect and the vice like grip disappeared. “God, Joey. Been eatin’ your Wheaties? Shit!” Vic felt his fingers slide over the opposite bicep, rubbing the irritated skin.
Lord, women are so weak, he mused, amazed that such a small amount of pressure caused an unusual amount of discomfort.
“Sorry,” Joey said. She turned and linked arms, pulling him forward “Let’s eat! And, while we are shoving unholy amounts of calories down our gullets, you can tell me all about your episode.” She laughed as Vic’s arm dislodged from hers and his hand smacked hard onto her tight behind. What the hell? “Sounds like a plan, Stan.”
Stan? Wasn’t the name Joey?
“Where ya wanna sit?”
“Booth,” the Cage stated, while bouncing in front of her companion.
“Cool” the redhead, whose name he was now unsure of, said.
Cool?
A wench dressed in a somewhat more appropriate attire than the two he was forced to be with arrived and asked for the order. As he listened, Vic found himself fascinated by the way the language was simplified. He had discerned that ‘ya’ was you, and ‘coffee, coke’ was beverage. ‘Waitress’ was serving wench and ‘Stan’ was not the name of his companion. He had been correct initially. It was Joey, still an odd name for a female. He was still working with the notion that she was being punished for some ill deed. Although, what action could lead a king to order a ring placed through an eyebrow? He tried to shake his head to no avail. Maybe this woman’s name was Josephine and Joey was the shorting of it. Yes that made the most sense. GA! He was musing over such trivial matters, when the real issue was how to escape this infernal prison.