A man in a white robe trimmed with golden thread walks down a stone corridor lined with massive windows on both sides. His steps are calm and steady. In his right hand, he's holding a phone. The screen shows he's calling Maeve Collins.
"Why is this child not answering?" he mutters under his breath. He looks to be in his late fifties or early sixties. Calling a twenty-six-year-old a "child" is not an exaggeration for him.
When Maeve still doesn't answer, he sighs and continues walking.
------------------------------
"Harrison, I believe I made myself very clear. Leave the Montroses alone."
Baroness Voss glares coldly at Chief Stille.
"It has not even been twenty-four hours since I said it, and you already went behind my back to cause trouble for them? I do not appreciate it when people assume I am stupid."
