Stef aimed her fork at the last piece of steak – for once, she’d managed to eat an entire meal, with only minimal spills on her uniform.
Ryan dabbed at his mouth with a cloth napkin – something that was strangely formal, strangely high-class, considering the low-key dinner they were having in his office.
There was something in the tone of his voice. ‘Russia, right?’ she asked, after wiping her own face, and quickly requiring a new tie to get rid of the gravy spot.
After his fourth training program, Taylor stopped to breathe for a moment.
Fading sim opponents littered the floor of his gym, a testament to the rate at which he’d completed all four routines.
Each sim of a different kind, a different type of monster to test his skills, to concentrate his thoughts on anything other than the blonde woman.
For a moment, he considered a shower, but that was a wasteful habit and he had no need of it. He had vague flashes of such wasteful habits, but nothing more. Memories without meaning.
‘And she was the turtle all along!’
Ryan stared. ‘Sir?’
There was a look on his Director’s face. It matched certain facial profiles that he saw on Reynolds’ face throughout the day. A microsecond later, he deduced that Reynolds was expectant. He expected something of Ryan, though he was unsure what. Continue reading “01 – First Flight”