Damien recently had a very clear understanding of his identity as a "sleeping robot."
After sending the message, he chuckled and stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of the presidential suite of the Sunshine Hotel, admiring the neon night scene of the bustling traffic below. The city was alive with lights and movement, a stark contrast to the solitude he often felt. His thoughts drifted as he watched the people below, each with their own stories, their own lives, oblivious to the machinations happening high above them.
Ding dong.
He received a reply.
Kendall: [Where?]
Three simple words, crisp and clear, completely in line with her style. Kendall was always direct, never one for unnecessary pleasantries.
Damien sent his room number, then sighed and looked at "Where" again. Small prey is too indifferent to chase. He smiled at the thought, admiring her straightforwardness, which he found both refreshing and frustrating.
