Leftovers

The dining table was silent except for the soft clattering of the cutlery as we fixed them in place. It took two hours, and just a few minutes before six, the cooking crew were done, and they started to bring out the casseroles. We fixed them in the middle and then moved away, waiting as the clock chimed six.

I held my breath as a few guards came around, with Alvin, the man from before, heading them. I watched as he used a spoon to taste everything before he waved away a few of the dishes. The dishes were immediately moved, and we rearranged the dining table again.

We stepped away this time as the door opened. Vector was on the phone, wearing a casual sweatshirt and pants, all white in colour. I swallowed hard and looked away, my jaws tightening, my chest lightly heaving.

He reached the head of the table, then drew out the seat for himself. I struggled to keep myself I place, my lips sucked in as he leisurely dropped the phone, then assumed the seat.

"Sir, we have a few things to..."