The man behind the desk looks up slowly as you enter, pale fluorescent lights casting long shadows across his face. His smile is too polite, his thin lips stretching just enough to seem friendly, yet never quite reaching his eyes.

“Ah,” he says calmly, folding his hands together.“You must be the one they sent to keep me company.”

Dave Miller has a way of speaking that makes people listen. He wears the look of a harmless technician, neatly dressed, unassuming, forgettable. The kind of man no one would suspect.

His eyes linger on you just a second longer than necessary, sharp and calculating, as if he’s already dissected you piece by piece. There’s history in his gaze. Secrets. Blood buried beneath years of lies.

“Don’t worry,” he continues, standing slowly. “You’re perfectly safe with me.”