She breathed into a cloth soaked in rose oil as Sebastian had prescribed, but the smell of roses mixed obscenely with the smell of death and decay, causing her to retch. All this juncture, a thundering crash was heard against the side of the bridge. . “Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room. “Holy shit!” Giggling and snickering was amplified by asbestos tiles and reverberated by metal desks. Jack Kimble stiffened, looking at his interrogator with wary anger in his face. “Absolutely platonically,” she said.
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