Sally, Part 37

Sally, Part 36

Stacey laid in what was pointed out as his bed and tried to sleep.  His mind never stopped though.  At first, he would just watch Syrin's ritual occasionally, not as amazed as when he first saw it, but it was too fluid and beautiful not to pay attention to sometimes.  After Syrin went to bed though, Stacey thought of other things.  He wondered what it was he was doing.  Did he really think he could even slow down Mattias and Syrin if they turned out to be slavers?  Would he have the courage to try in the moment?  Did they really trust him, or were they just stringing him along until they could sell him, or kill him quietly?  This last one made him look over at his sleeping compatriots.  They didn't seem like killers.  Not really anyway.  With this last thought, Stacey finally rolled over for the last time and found sleep.

Mattias roused Stacey the next morning, Syrin was already out of the room, and Mattias was completely dressed, "I thought you'd wake up on your own eventually, but it seems I was wrong.  Breakfast is ready downstairs and our benefactor says a couple of nasty looking gentlemen came back last night looking for us, so we might want to shove off some time soon."

Blinking, and then rubbing his eyes, Stacey finally got Mattias into focus and swung his legs off the edge of the bed.  He sat for a moment, rubbing his eyes some more and then got up and put on his clothes.  Breakfast was better than he thought it'd be, but certainly worse than he was used to.  The smell of blood and vomit permeated his sausage and eggs, but he was grateful to have anything, so he tried to ignore the horrible stench of his food and the bar, and shoveled it in like any other slaving criminal, thanking the bar keep when he was done.