[He stares at Ivan for a moment, uncomprehending. If he had a proper heartbeat, maybe it would be loud in his ears right now. Instead, there are a few seconds of tense silence.]
What are you saying, exactly.
[Slow, and measured, but there's just a hint of panic wrinkling the edge of his tone. Numbly, Mitchell sits back in his chair, his cigarette forgotten.]
no subject
What are you saying, exactly.
[Slow, and measured, but there's just a hint of panic wrinkling the edge of his tone. Numbly, Mitchell sits back in his chair, his cigarette forgotten.]
You're saying you're going t' turn me in?