The agent asked, gently, “Can you describe the room?”
“There were bright lights above me. Blinding, I had to squint the whole time. So I couldn’t really see the room. But the table was metal.”
“Metal table, ok. And were there any sounds? Noise? Anything that sounded like talking?
“There was… it sounded like slurping. And definitely rustling. Like, newspapers.”
“Okay. Excuse us for a minute, please.”
The agents stepped out into the hall, closed the door behind them.
“Slurping and rustling—”
“Definitely the Pyorwheen.”
“This is, what, the third time they’ve grabbed somebody out-of-season?”
“The fine’s gonna be astronomical.”