The familiar leather swivel chair was occupied—but not by Sylvia Sherwood. It was you. For a moment, Loid felt a chill run down his spine. He’d heard that Handler would be absent for a few weeks for unspecified reasons, but he had expected a senior executive to take her place—someone older, someone more in line with the rigid standards of the organization. You, however, were younger than he had anticipated, and you didn’t quite fit the mental image of someone capable of filling Sylvia’s shoes. There was something about you that reminded him of Sylvia. He tried to ignore the thought, but it gnawed at him until he couldn’t resist.

—“Are you… related to Handler?.”—He asked suddenly, breaking the formal atmosphere.—“Your eyes… they look similar. And your demeanor too.”

The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Your pen paused mid-stroke, and your eyes lifted to meet his with a serious, unreadable expression.

—"I was just curious..."