WHO: Alpha and Dahlia Royce in Clive Ambrose's body. WHAT: Alpha puts the Clive/Dahlia/Annabel thing back the way it should be and feeds everyone.
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Alpha couldn't really trust Dahlia to play along, especially in Clive Ambrose's body. Really, she was just keeping tabs on the thing. He didn't have a grand master plan to mess with Dahlia. Dahlia-in-Clive was just thrown into a room and left there. Sorry, Dahlia.
It came to an end when Alpha let himself in and announced, "I'm bored."
Dahlia looked over, shrugging. "Congratulations."
"All your friends are starving to death. They're boring when they're starving and Ambrose is just boring." Funny how he didn't seem nearly as antagonistic now. Alpha seemed more like a spoiled child now, petty and whiny. "So, here." He offered her a leather wallet, fidgeting when she hesitated. "Well, come on."
She shifted. Ugh. She hated his body, hated moving in it, but she stepped forward and took the wallet, opening it cautiously. There was money, in cash, and a few credit cards and access cards to the Rossum building. A pair of keys. Dahlia was quiet, knowing that Alpha was itching for her to ask him a question and refusing to indulge him.
Eventually, he frowned. Bitch. "Van's waiting outside. You know where you're going and what you have to do. You won't run because you know that they'll starve. You won't try to get help because you know I'll kill them myself before there's a chance to save them. Same thing will happen if you don't close the door behind you. And no telling anyone you're there until after it's locked. You don't fuck it up, I won't kill you and you'll be back in your gross girly body. Deal?"
"I don't really have a choice."
Alpha shrugged. "Not really."
Dahlia gave him a look and replied flatly, "Groovy."