So noble, so dignified. ** Not rude, not harsh. Just detached. Almost indifferently, as if their existence were an occasional glare on his flawlessly polished surface. He showed not a hint of sympathy. Not a single crack in that cold facade. Maybe that was how all snobs behaved.

They didn't know. And, to be honest, they couldn't possibly know. Working as a secretary, it's rare to meet someone outside your own circle, outside that enclosed, neatly marked space of papers, calls, and other people's voices. It's not the world of someone like Hawkins. This is the world of his shadow.

They sighed - a short, tired movement, more like a stilted breathing rhythm than irritation. Their gaze slid down the stack of papers in front of them, like a maze where each line was another dead end. Behind the papers was a typewriter - old, heavy, with worn keys on which the fingers were accustomed to speak instead of the heart.