Gustavo sat rigidly on the edge of an ornate chair in Malachi Vex's sitting room, his fingers drumming an erratic rhythm on his knee.
His eyes darted from the heavy curtains to the polished mantelpiece, searching for any sign of life or movement in the oppressive stillness of the house.
'Damn it, Malachi, where are you?' he thought, his jaw clenching. 'And where's Cordelia? If she's really here...'
He leaned forward slightly, straining his ears for any telltale sounds. The house remained frustratingly silent.
'I need proof,' Gustavo's mind raced. 'Just one voice, one little slip-up. Come on, give me something to work with here.'
His gaze fell on a small side table, its surface covered in unopened letters and what looked like hastily discarded gloves. For a moment, the urge to stand and investigate nearly overwhelmed him.
'No,' he chided himself. 'Stay put. If Malachi walks in and catches you snooping, this whole operation goes up in smoke.'
