"Uh…huh." Neville shook off his confusion.
For a moment there, he could have sworn he had heard—but no. He must have been imagining it.
"I'll contact our secondary suppliers immediately. There might be compatible alternatives available from companies in the nearby systems."
Grayson's voice was normal when he said "Good." So it must've been really his imagination.
Neville gathered his things and headed for the door, already mentally drafting the outreach messages he needed to send.
Just before he crossed the threshold, something made him glance back.
Grayson sat with his head tilted back, one hand massaging the tension knots at the base of his neck. The movement pulled his uniform shirt taut across his shoulders, highlighting its length.
Neville looked away quickly.
He seems stressed, he thought, making a mental note. Maybe I should prepare something to help him relax later.
.
.
.
Neville's console pinged with a new message notification: It was an email.
