Grayson didn't immediately go back to his penthouse. Instead, he redirected his hover car towards the Imperial Research Institute.
Pete Rowan was still, as if he already knew that he would come back. He met him at the side entrance.
He had a lab coat on with a crooked button. He had a mug of something steaming in his left hand. He was visibly tired and stressed, but he was calm, which made this whole thing even more unnerving.
"She's downstairs," Pete Rowan said by way of greeting, falling into step beside Grayson without preamble.
"She hasn't eaten. Refused the nutrient solutions, refused water. She did throw the chair at the observation window around ten, but it's a reinforced fake glass, so it's useless." Then, he took a sip from his mug to wet his dry throat.
