"It's not the wanting that makes this so arrogant, it's the sense of entitlement," Tyler scoffed.
"Nope, I'm not entitled. Everyone is free to do what they want. But I can be honest about my feelings and I am entitled to those emotions. All I'm doing is communicating. And you are wrong to make me feel this way, perhaps it is you who is so arrogant as to demand I justify being so very human?"
Horatio was never less than arrogant. If he could do half the stuff he thought he could maybe "confidence" would have been a better word. It wasn't though. He'd been brought up with a belief that he was superior to everyone else by virtue of his birth. Perhaps without that he could have been handsome, heroic even, but that sneer made him the ugliest damn thing anyone from the projects had ever seen. The day he became a captain was the day he left humanity for good, all that power with such little grace, utterly toxic.
Gina curled her long fingers around the phone. Soon confirmation would come. The vials would be past the chain and onto the safe house. There's no way a stupid policeman-plod like Mac could follow it. By now he was likely just following clues to the first way-station, where he would find nothing at all. She strode back to the window, by nightfall this cat and mouse game would be over. She would have her father's medication any trail that could lead back to her would be "cleaned up." She glanced at the phone again, annoyed with it's silence. Calling too soon would show anxiety, not a trait she wished to advertise. She pictured the look on the detectives face when he realized he was outwitted...again, that he could chase them his whole stupid life and never get any closer. The grin faded as she glanced at the phone again. Still blank. She returned to gazing. Holding that box would be so sweet. Two objectives achieved in one blow.
The chef examined the incoming ingredients. Damn suppliers- always trying to get one over on him. He turned the aubergines in his spade-like hands to look for the sallow brown spots, tossing his rejects into a separate bin with a grunt. Then he picked up the basil and looked at each leaf like an art appraiser, taking in the minutia of the details, sniffing a ripped leaf before chewing it. The truck driver scratched at his stubbled jowls and checked his phone for the time for the fifth time in two minutes. Claud continued, no faster, no slower. As far as the chef was concerned the "little man" could check the time a hundred times in his indiscreet way, huffing and puffing like the nuisance he was. Timetables were inconsequential to him unless it affected his opening times or wasted the time of his staff when they were on the clock.
The daylight had dwindled to a barely perceptible lightening of the gloom. Each wall of concrete was identical to the next without an identifying marker of any kind. Standing in what could be any part of the labyrinth, Jasper realized his folly. He had been so certain he could do better than George, that he would be in and out in half a day or less. There was no reason that left would be better than right, or ahead better than doubling back. He considered sitting until the dawn, but who knows what would come when he was made blind by the night.
The man from the bank walked in with a ranging stride, even and quick paced. With one glance around the place he waved his hand to his underling. That one gesture meant “unsalvageable.” It was the end of Rosa's dream, the end of thirty years of work. That cafe was her life but to this suit it wasn't worth another ten seconds of his time.
I'm better than you. I am. Don't look at me like that, like you think you can even try. I could beat you in my sleep, in fact, I think I did last night... twice. How do I know I'm superior? I know from comparing your clothes to mine, your shoes, your hair, your car. You are trash. Sorry if it hurts, but you are. So why don't you stop snivelling and crawl back to whatever dumpster you sleep in.
You call me arrogant. Why don't you step up and prove me wrong. Prove you're better. What's that? I'm mean. That's just what losers say. You hate me for being successful, I despise you for not trying to be more than a tramp. What? Too harsh? Take a look in the mirror and then remember how good I looked. And no, looks aren't everything. I aced every test I ever took, in fact, I'm not sure you and I are even the same species.
No, I don't need to study. Studying is for dumb people. Pass the nachos and pop. I'll ace it, no problem. God given talent, baby, that's me.
Arrogance was his worst vice and the thing that kept me coming back. In this big wide world of confusion that boy knew where he was heading and how – that's what I needed. Didn't hurt that he had hair the colour of sunlight on birch wood and eyes to match. Everything about him told my intuition he was a trap, yet I walked right in and let the door swing shut.