Mornings, in her experience, were the worst time of day. Very few positive experiences occured in the bright light of day, and those that did rarely left her feeling good for long. Mornings were designed for the bland ministry folks — those content to go about their lives as though they were sheep following their shepherd. Zelda, for example.

Another flash of rage rushed through her at the thought of her friend. Her friend who was leaving one of the kindest people Jo ever met to die alone.

She barely registered his undressed form as she barged past him into his flat. Jo was more familiar with Holsten's scars and tattoos than she was her own, and she had just had them mapped by Alfred only two days ago.

"At least you're not in the suit." She muttered as she turned to face him. As attractive as the fitted material made him, Jo wasn't wanting to see the lie so blatantly in front of her again. No. Holsten was better off saving it for the doe eyed debutantes.

There was no containing her ire once the door closed. "Why did you lie?" She hadn't come to banter and fall into bed with him. Jo tracked his flat down for one reason and one reason alone — to understand why he hadn't trusted her. "Why didn't you just tell me?"