More data? Who talked like that? She didn’t bother hiding her perplexed expression before picking up her teacup for the umpteenth time to take another sip. She didn’t know what to make of Mr. Harry Berkwood other than it seemed his earlier statement held true: he wasn’t his brother.
And she should have more questions; she actually had a lot of them, but none of them had materialized clearly in front of her when asked. She’d have to take her time with this one. She was about to leave when, in the offered silence, she finally registered the kind of room they actually were in. She’d been so caught up in standing her ground, expecting the worst, that she hadn’t actually paid much attention to the contents of the room past its layout.
“Yes.” Avery looked around. “What exactly is your profession then?”
And she should have more questions; she actually had a lot of them, but none of them had materialized clearly in front of her when asked. She’d have to take her time with this one. She was about to leave when, in the offered silence, she finally registered the kind of room they actually were in. She’d been so caught up in standing her ground, expecting the worst, that she hadn’t actually paid much attention to the contents of the room past its layout.
“Yes.” Avery looked around. “What exactly is your profession then?”
