Right next to the bedroom belonging to her captor was the room to which Lecia had been confined. It had been a deliberate choice, she knew now. She could hear many things through the walls. So she could only assume that Hatchet Man could hear many things from this room as well. She had taken advantage of this on the first day, regaling him with complaints in her native language until her voice had grown tired. Now she simply watched.
Quietly she sat in her doorway. She studied everything in the villa beyond her room. She could not see much of the kitchen, but she had a direct view of a locked cupboard in the main room. Not the box that held her collections, but another one. She wondered what he kept in there, though she tried not to spend too much time staring at it. This sharp eyed captor would surely notice such a thing eventually.
When the man himself appeared within her line of sight, Lecia perked up. Finally something more interesting to watch than the fly that had been trapped in the windowsill that morning. There was nothing worse than an idle mind with no outlet. She strained to see what was in his hands. When she could not contain her curiosity any longer, she called out to him from where she sat on the floor.
“What are...” Before she finished the sentence, the first conversation they had ever had suddenly came to mind. He had wanted her to call him something. Lecia was not above playing the game that way again. She glanced up at him with a demure expression, barely meeting his eye.
“What are you making, Sir?”
