He had no plan ready, indeed.
But maybe it was an exaggeration to say he had been caught.
After all, he hadn't been trapped in some overtly compromising situation: no alarms, no lab equipment in pieces, no evidence of wrongdoing. The term "caught" implied a certain drama, a sense of guilt, a failure. And Blake wasn't entirely guilty.
Not yet, at least.
"We meet again."
Blake glanced at the man standing before him, noting the same cold composure that seemed to emanate from every inch of his posture.
He immediately flashed a smile, deactivating his skill.
It was none other than Alfred Hicth.
Alfred Hicth.
'He should be anywhere but here! What the hell?'
The man's eyes narrowed slightly in thought, then relaxed. His hand let go of Blake's shoulder.
"It has, indeed," Alfred said, his tone even, measured. "I saw your application, and I was rather intrigued. Nobody ever offered such a well-thought profile. Your deductive skills are nothing short of impressive."
