I eyed Agent Marcus standing in front of the C.I.B. headquarters entrance, his hands on his hips. He muttered to himself in frustration and occasionally gave a frustrated kick, completely ignoring the judgmental stares of the passersby.
It was odd. I know the man just lost his partner and buddy, but he also hit the trillion-dollar lottery, which would be more than enough for anyone to get over what was bound to happen, eventually. After all, they signed up for a title that literally meant first responders against anything related to curse energy. All I was trying to say was that they knew what they signed up for and were prepared for it.
