Don said nothing. Neither did Charles. Both of them simply looked at the man—this unknown figure who filled the office more than the furniture ever could.
Don's confusion lasted a second longer before his vision flickered. The lenses in his eyes lit faintly at the edges, a cluster of minimized icons blooming in the corner.
———
Person of interest identified. Compiling data…
Data compiled.
Load profile? Yes/No.
———
He lingered on it, gaze flat.
Before he could decide, Charles shifted. He crossed his arms, eyes flicking briefly toward the office walls as if weighing the room itself before speaking.
"May I ask who you are?"
The man chuckled. Deep, rough around the edges, but genuine in its amusement. He drew in another pull from his cigar, the ember glowing bright for a moment before he exhaled a slow stream.
