"The bar," Caleb said.
The Hacker's smile held. Her head stayed tilted at the same angle. The crushed-orchid scent clung to the air, her skin, and the lining of the suit she had bought him.
"Lead the way," she said. "I haven't had a drink."
She kept the path occupied until his body chose the first step. Then she angled beside him. Her hand brushed his sleeve at the elbow on the way past. The brush was small enough to mean nothing and specific enough to mean she had been planning it.
Caleb walked.
The man with the eyes from his father's office had been standing near the toast platform thirty seconds ago. The toast platform was on the way to the bar. The geometry was helpful and that was enough.
It had to be enough, because his brain wanted to do something useless with the memory.
It wanted his father's office.
