“Audrey’s place,” he spoke over to still tagging along Charlene. He didn’t mind, as long as he could use her for a sounding board every couple of minutes. “Right down there. With *him*. I see their green dots in the middle of the night. I know what they do.”
“Jeffrie,” she urged.
“I know, I know.” Jeffrie Phillips sighed. “Stop dwelling.”
But he couldn’t. Next stop: the Gasthause, as close as Jeffrie (and Charlene) could get without actually trespassing on *his* property. The doctor. I bet he is, I bet he is, Jeffrie Phillips thought over and over in his mind as he stared up toward the structure owned by a man from the future. And the past. Along with the present of course. He said his thoughts aloud again. It was here, for the 12th time today (not coincidentally, the amount of sounding board moments between Jeffrie and herself), Charlene considered leaving this clearly possessed man. Audrey, Audrey, Audrey. That’s *all* he ponders about.
“You don’t understand,” he defended himself after being called out again. “I was just wandering around, having a good time, poking my head in here and there. When I stumbled into that cabin and found *her* chair. Just sitting there. Like a sacred altar — which it was, actually. For me, and her. When we were *together*.”
Ah, a secret submissive, though Charlene here, understanding more in the moment. She knew about such chairs. Well — *two* can play that game.
“*I* have a chair. Back at my place in Colona.”
“Won’t be the same,” he quickly replied, putting her in her place again. Audrey was queen. She was merely a pawn in a much bigger game.