The room was dark but for the thin shaft of light from a partially open door, which cut sharply across the stone floor and illuminated cluttered shelves and a scattered disarray of old,
crisp papers and scrolls. The place hadn’t been touched in years – the dust that glittered in the light from the corridor was almost like fog.
But the figure crouched on the floor seemed unbothered by this, hunched over an old, battered book that had fallen open in the path of light.
The figure didn’t move, even when light footsteps clicked down the hall and the door creaked further open, a tall shadow falling across the pages.
“Hey, four-eyes! What the hell are you doing in a filthy place like this? In case it slipped that Titan-addled brain of yours, we have a meeting to get to.
Now get your dusty ass back upstairs or the MPs will have our hides. They already look like they’re about to bust some blood vessels, and damned if I’m gonna clean that mess up.”
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