N.O.T.O.Y.O.’s room? Conor’s heart sank with dread. N.O.T.O.Y.O. was basically a code word for “motive,” and if said motive was anything like the last one, someone may as well kill someone right then and there. Save them all the trouble. Wait, what? Conor suddenly stopped walking, his eyes growing wide. What a terrible thing to think! What the hell, Conor?
Still, even though he rrecognized that, he still hoped that this motive would be merciful, or at least end quickly. He couldn’t imagine suffering through a motive like the last one again.
He stayed silent as N.O.T.O.Y.O. talked. When she had finished, he found himself letting out a held breath. Thank goodness, no phantoms. His breathing heightened as it dawned on him just what this motive meant. Someone they loved in a killing game like this? "P-please…Please no, not Mom, not Dad…“ Conor looked down at his feet, shaking his head. "Not Mama, not Baba…” he murmured.
Conor straightened up eventually. He had to. His mind was racing and didn’t want him standing still. He walked over to the elevator, and went to the third floor. Where he was headed, he didn’t know. He just had to go somewhere. Move, and think.