The room was dark, smoke filled. It was hard to see the stone walls, though they were obviously made of stone, that cold feeling radiating through the small fourteen square foot room. Stay low, stay quiet, stay dead. Stay low, stay quiet, stay dead. Stay low, stay quiet, stay dead. Stay low, stay quiet, stay dead. He repeated it to himself in the quiet of his head, eyes closed and cheek pressed to the stone that had been pieces together to form a floor. Caramel eyes searched, finding some small pieces that were pried up and loose as if someone had been trying to escape from the small room.
He just laid there. He closed his eyes, slowed his breathing so his chest was barely visible as it rose and fell in a steady rhythm, and he pulled off the look of a fresh corpse. He could hear footsteps. At the door...inches from his body....beside him...standing next to his head. He peeked open his left eye, since that side was pressed to the floor and somewhat hidden. Leather...designer...blue snakeskin. This guy had some real cash with him...
A chuckle came from the figure that towered over him and when they bent over, an arm extended, connecting with the nose. A yelp sounded and the man back away quickly, hands covering the bleeding orifice. He jumped to his feet, sprinting to the door and slamming it shut, watching the smoke of the room for a moment as it swirled around the window of the door. For a brief moment, he was distracted. Beautiful...the smoke looked very very beautiful as it swirled and danced through the air of the now closed off room. Apparently, his ruse had been effective.
RING RING RING. He ran down the corridor. RING RING RING. What was that!? RING RING RING. Jesus Christ, where was that sound coming from?! RING RING RING. Was it a gun? Someone was shooting at him? RING RING RING. Wait....RING RING RING. A growl tore from his throat and caramel eyes opened, naturally dark tanned hand reaching out and taking hod of the cell phone that rang on the bedside table. Dammit, someone always wanted him when he was asleep.
"Sadir." he growled, his Israeli accent heavier and thick with sleep, considering the fact that he had only just woken up, "How may I help you?" He listened to whoever was on the phone. he hadn't paid attention. The only thing he understood were the words "Work" "Duchess" "Bodyguard" and "Now". He pieced it together to figure he needed to get back to work with the duchess, because he was her body guard and was needed now.
The moose of a man pushed himself from his bed, tiredly going to the bathroom to examine himself. Scruff, greying hair, bags under his eyes....he hadn't slept well recently and each time he was sleeping well, he got woken up by the god damn phone. Shaking his head, Sadir washed his face before grabbing the little pen he kept on hand. There were still stains on his face from the day before and slowly, he traced them with experienced hands, drawing the characters. They were an array of Egyptian and Arabic. When he finished, Sadir set the pen aside and changed his clothes. Usually he wore something normal. A pair of slacks and a button down shirt and a tie. Today, it was the same with the exception of a bullet proof vest that he pulled on. He didn't feel like taking risks today with getting shot.
Slowly, he moved from his room, walking down the hall with his hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks. Dress shoes clicked on the floor as he moved down the dimly lit corridor. For God's sake, he LIVED in their god damn house. It wasn't like he wouldn't KNOW if someone was trying to make any kind of move.