The officials said nothing, only nodded and departed. Once they had left, Poppy turned to Francis, her brows drawn in a worried line. "I have a bad feeling about this," she murmured.
"Why's that? It's just another meeting. There's nothing to worry about. Trust me," he said calmly, looking at her.
Her gaze turned to his eyes and in them she seemed to find a little comfort. "Okay," she said eventually. "I'm trusting you. But if we die, I am totally blaming you."
She pointed at him as a door creaked open. "Trusting you," she mouthed. A man with watery blue eyes and shaggy brown hair walked in, and his gaze immediately settled on the two of them. "Ah, Mr. Craw? Miss Abernathy? A pleasure," he said, walking towards them with an outstretched hand.
Francis leaned forward, shaking his hand. "The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Jeremiah. Thank you for having us." (I forgot his name for a moment and I thought it was Garfield for some reason.)
(Garfield? Like the cat?) "Yes, well," he said, shaking Poppy's hand and sitting across from them. "Unfortunately, we'll have to make this quite quick. I have another engagement in about 20 minutes." He folded his hands on his lap and took a deep breath. "So. Let's get down to business, shall we? Your country needs our alliance in this war, is that correct?"
(Jeez, I don't even know. I think so? I was kinda daydreaming and multitasking and I almost typed Garfield instead of Jeremiah.) "Indeed it is. This is the second meeting we've been to, and in accordance to the first, we already have one alliance," Francis said, subconsciously tapping his foot. "Well, we will, if you after agree to join us. It's for a good cause."
Mr. Jeremiah frowned, looking askance at the two of them. "'A good cause' is for charities and money," he said. "Not wars. What can your country do for me in return?"
"I have to disagree, Mr. Jeremiah. A good cause is doing what is right." Francis shook his head. "As for what we can give you? There's not much as of yet. It's... Not doing well. But once we have it back, there's plenty we can do in return."
"Besides," Poppy interjected. "We're battling a nation that we have reason to believe is striving towards world domination. Siding with us is a way to fight back for your country." Mr. Jeremiah considered this, his brow drawn. "Your enemies have offered us a considerable sum to join their side, you know," he said, and Francis would feel Poppy stiffen next to him. "Why shouldn't we just join them instead? They are promising us a place in their world."
"You can do whatever you please, Mr. Jeremiah," Francis said smoothly, "but I do believe it would be a mistake on your part. We all know they would just end up paying you well below what they said, and you would have to give up your position to whoever is in charge. It wouldn't be yours. It would be theirs."
Mr. Jeremiah raised an eyebrow and then actually laughed. "You presume a lot of things, Mr. Craw." He made eye contact with someone behind them, and Francis would hear a sickening thud as an officer slammed the butt of his gun down on Poppy's head. Before he would be able to react, though, there would be another impact, and Francis' vision would go black. (Is this okay? I can change it if need be.)
(Mmhmm! Skippity doo dah!) Francis would wake alone in a room tied to a chair. He was locked in a cell with chain bonds binding his hands behind his back. The bars pointed out to an dark hallway, and besides from the occasional echoing clang of metal, it was silent.
Francis looked around, momentarily forgetting where he was. Suddenly, his eyes widened and a flurry of curses escaped his mouth. He pulled against the chains in anger, his wrists aching. He tried to stand, but slipped, landing hard on his side, a pain shot through his shoulder. He ignored it, though.
"Francis Craw," came a voice from the darkness. Mr. Jeremiah emerged into the light, those watery eyes studying him intensely. He unlocked the cell with a key and close the door behind him with a dull click. He tilted his head sideways as he glanced down at Francis, his eyes squinted with amusement. "You appear to have fallen, did you know?"
(Oh, right, if he does use words that would normally be censored, I'll usually use words like heck or frick. It always makes things funnier.) Francis sat up, his motions stiff. His expression was dark, as he watched Mr. Jeremiah. "Where's Poppy?"
"Miss Abernathy? Oh, she's... unavailable at the moment." A young woman cried out in pain in the distance, and it echoed down the hallway, almost as if on cue. Although it didn't sound exactly like Poppy's voice, the ominous implication was emphasized by Mr. Jeremiah's grin. "Let's talk, you and I, shall we? I'd like to tell you what's going to happen next if you're interested."
