It was also the easiest thing to provide.
Yeah, I already said that.
“You have eyes on them?”
“Minimal. My interpretation via the swarm’s eyes and ears is still garbage, as always. And I didn’t want to have so many around them that they get suspicious.”
“Can’t make out what they’re saying?”
I shook my head. Still, I could tell that they were talking.
Seven of them. One of the men was garbed in smooth body armor that covered everything. Mannequin.
Ah, fuck. Lisa was right.
There was another man who could have been Siberian’s real self or Hookwolf. Long haired, shirtless.
Oh. “could have been”. I managed to read that as “couldn’t have been”, so I was trying to figure out who else it’d be.
My bugs traced the edges of knives at one man’s belt: He was the quietest, and was pacing without cease, sitting down, then pacing again. Jack.
He sounds frustrated. What is he pondering?
Or maybe he’s just bored and restless here? Even though it can’t have been long since he arrived.