away from something.
The woman in question glanced up, her face flushed. “Mark, when you offered me a job earlier, did you mean it?”
“Yes.” He was startled, but hid the fact. Growing up as the son of a top Hollywood director and a famous actress, he’d learned early to disguise his emotions. People and paparazzi (the latter didn’t always behave as humans, hence the distinction) were constantly scrutinizing him for his reactions. Especially after Phoebe’s death, he’d learned to protect his emotions. To distance himself. But he didn’t need to protect himself from Clancy. He smiled. “You’d help Doris with her work here, anyway, so yeah, I should pay you.”
“For a fortnight,” she specified. “While I look around and find a real job. Sorry! A different job.”
“I know, in retail.” He grinned to show that he was teasing.
Some of the tension in her posture relaxed. Her shoulders lowered. “Exactly. And, we need to deal with the demon.”
It was his turn to tense. He put down the second sandwich he’d picked up. “No. Faust is not your problem.”
“We can’t ignore the thing’s existence,” Doris said. “It wanted to steal Clancy’s soul.”
“That’s not possible. Not without her consent,” he responded steadily.
“Which doesn’t mean the demon won’t try.” Doris glared at him.
He swallowed some coffee. At least its bitterness was welcome. The bitterness of his thoughts was less so. “I know all about what Faust will try.”
Doris glanced away. She, along with everyone else, had criticized his pursuit of the demon; had thought it a figment of survivor’s guilt from the car crash and Phoebe’s death.
“So what do we do to stop Faust?” Clancy broke the tension with her question.
He looked at her. “You don’t do anything.”
“We can’t just wait for the Collegium. Thomas wasn’t even interested in recording my report. All he wanted was to put me through to Neville for him to lecture me. Apparently, it was ‘orders’.” Clancy crammed a too-large, final bite of sandwich into her mouth as if to stop further words spilling out.
Already, Doris’s face had reddened with anger. The grim line of her mouth indicated her desire to give someone a piece of her mind. This Neville, for instance.
“I have no intention of waiting for the Collegium,” Mark said.
Clancy curled her fingers around her mug of coffee. “What are you going to do?”
“Nothing, this afternoon.” He stonewalled, picking up his sandwich. “I have to go into work. I have a meeting I can’t cancel.”
“You work?” She stared at him, wide-eyed and dumb-founded.
He stared back, equally shocked, finished chewing, and swallowed bread and salmon. “Of course I work.”
Then they both stared at Doris. She studied her sandwich options. “It’s not my job to keep you two up to date on each other’s activities.”
“What do you work at?” Clancy seemed to have forgotten the demon and her annoyance with the Collegium.
“I produce games. Multiplayer, immersive worlds. We’re working on one set in another galaxy. The meeting this afternoon is with NASA.”
“Wow.”
He shrugged. “Like most government agencies, they have a media department. We have some questions for them.” He was keeping it casual, but working with NASA could be huge.
He genuinely loved the world of gaming. It was a method of storytelling that fully engaged people. It could change lives. People were able to “try on” different personas, enter new worlds, and unleash their own curiosity and ingenuity.
“That’s awesome.” Clancy’s brown eyes sparkled with interest. “I love the graphics in games. They’re so real. Lush. Are you doing anything in 3D?”
“We’re considering it.” His vice-president for marketing was pushing for it. 3D was one of the many issues to be addressed in the meeting after the meeting with NASA that afternoon. This internal, executive-level session had been delayed too many
The woman in question glanced up, her face flushed. “Mark, when you offered me a job earlier, did you mean it?”
“Yes.” He was startled, but hid the fact. Growing up as the son of a top Hollywood director and a famous actress, he’d learned early to disguise his emotions. People and paparazzi (the latter didn’t always behave as humans, hence the distinction) were constantly scrutinizing him for his reactions. Especially after Phoebe’s death, he’d learned to protect his emotions. To distance himself. But he didn’t need to protect himself from Clancy. He smiled. “You’d help Doris with her work here, anyway, so yeah, I should pay you.”
“For a fortnight,” she specified. “While I look around and find a real job. Sorry! A different job.”
“I know, in retail.” He grinned to show that he was teasing.
Some of the tension in her posture relaxed. Her shoulders lowered. “Exactly. And, we need to deal with the demon.”
It was his turn to tense. He put down the second sandwich he’d picked up. “No. Faust is not your problem.”
“We can’t ignore the thing’s existence,” Doris said. “It wanted to steal Clancy’s soul.”
“That’s not possible. Not without her consent,” he responded steadily.
“Which doesn’t mean the demon won’t try.” Doris glared at him.
He swallowed some coffee. At least its bitterness was welcome. The bitterness of his thoughts was less so. “I know all about what Faust will try.”
Doris glanced away. She, along with everyone else, had criticized his pursuit of the demon; had thought it a figment of survivor’s guilt from the car crash and Phoebe’s death.
“So what do we do to stop Faust?” Clancy broke the tension with her question.
He looked at her. “You don’t do anything.”
“We can’t just wait for the Collegium. Thomas wasn’t even interested in recording my report. All he wanted was to put me through to Neville for him to lecture me. Apparently, it was ‘orders’.” Clancy crammed a too-large, final bite of sandwich into her mouth as if to stop further words spilling out.
Already, Doris’s face had reddened with anger. The grim line of her mouth indicated her desire to give someone a piece of her mind. This Neville, for instance.
“I have no intention of waiting for the Collegium,” Mark said.
Clancy curled her fingers around her mug of coffee. “What are you going to do?”
“Nothing, this afternoon.” He stonewalled, picking up his sandwich. “I have to go into work. I have a meeting I can’t cancel.”
“You work?” She stared at him, wide-eyed and dumb-founded.
He stared back, equally shocked, finished chewing, and swallowed bread and salmon. “Of course I work.”
Then they both stared at Doris. She studied her sandwich options. “It’s not my job to keep you two up to date on each other’s activities.”
“What do you work at?” Clancy seemed to have forgotten the demon and her annoyance with the Collegium.
“I produce games. Multiplayer, immersive worlds. We’re working on one set in another galaxy. The meeting this afternoon is with NASA.”
“Wow.”
He shrugged. “Like most government agencies, they have a media department. We have some questions for them.” He was keeping it casual, but working with NASA could be huge.
He genuinely loved the world of gaming. It was a method of storytelling that fully engaged people. It could change lives. People were able to “try on” different personas, enter new worlds, and unleash their own curiosity and ingenuity.
“That’s awesome.” Clancy’s brown eyes sparkled with interest. “I love the graphics in games. They’re so real. Lush. Are you doing anything in 3D?”
“We’re considering it.” His vice-president for marketing was pushing for it. 3D was one of the many issues to be addressed in the meeting after the meeting with NASA that afternoon. This internal, executive-level session had been delayed too many
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