Re: "Every Road Goes Somewhere"
The sound of the 'throne room' doors opening drew no immediate response from Washington, who's tall lithe form was silhouetted against the sky as he remained leaning against the balcony railing, the doors to the outdoor space opening the room up to the tepid air. The heavy oak doors closing behind the offending trio finally drew their leader's full attention, though he made them wait in silence for a moment before doing so.
When he turned he stood upright, hands clasped behind his back, his tightly wound military boots clapping lowly against the faux-marble floors until they reached a grand grizzly bear skin rug that was the centerpiece for the room, with one heel resting upon the nape of the flat beast.
He looked to each of the three subordinates in turn, starting with Atlanta, then Wyoming, and finally Dakota, sighing lightly, as one does when disappointed but not surprised. "Atlanta has blood on his clothes. I know that isn't walker blood, so I want to hear what went down." His tone conveyed that there would be immediate consequences if there was not compliance. His dark eyes surveyed the lot of them as he spoke, before settling on Dakota again. "I don't want to hear it from you, Atlanta. I want to hear it from them. Dakota?.." Wash called out the ever reliable Dakota, his steely and judging gaze unblinkingly. He was pissed and as tightly wound as his bootlaces.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:04, Sat 25 Apr 2015.