Page 52 of Darkness

“What about you?” Morrisey asked.

Farren studied his baked potato, melting butter dripping down the tinfoil wrapper. “I live at the complex, socialize with others on the task force. Mostly, I’m dedicated to my work.” Morrisey should understand, as his file said he did the same. Farren chose not to discuss the suspicion, the slurs muttered under someone's breath, or, sometimes, obvious jealousy.

Morrisey pulled his plate closer to him. “Yeah, doesn’t leave much time for other things.”

“No. Not really.”

They continued eating in silence, Morrisey far more relaxed than he’d been at the hospital. Letting his guard down allowed Farren to see more of the real Morrisey, the one curious about the world, who’d signed on with the task force with the honest intention of doing good.

While many people might not find the aesthetic as a whole pleasing, Morrisey’s beautiful, expressive dark eyes framed by long lashes, and prominent cheekbones gave him an exotic air, like the portrait of a ship’s captain Farren once saw in a museum. Wavy dark hair called to Farren’s fingers. Morrisey's nose, slightly large, still suited him, adding a hint of interest to a face that might otherwise be too ordinary.

He sported a small amount of scruff on his cheeks and a light mustache, setting Morrisey apart from most of Farren’s clean-shaven coworkers.

Farren caught Morrisey glancing from the side of his eye more than once. Interesting. Then again, finding out your work partner was from another world meant keeping an eye out for a cautious man like Morrisey.

And he’d only seen minimal “magic” thus far.

They sat at the table long after the meal ended, enjoying companionable silence until the server brought their bill. Farren paid—tipping generously—and he and Morrisey made their way outside at a much more leisurely pace than they’d entered.

Morrisey hadn’t run, making today a successful first day on the job.

Chapter Eighteen

Farren stood at Arianna’s desk, waiting for Morrisey to exit the elevator since security reported his arrival on the compound. Farren held out a hand. “You owe me ten bucks.”

“I said he wouldn’t last a week. This is only his second day on the job,” Arianna muttered.

“I believe your exact words were, ‘He won’t last five minutes.’ Pay up.”

“Spoilsport.” Arianna fished in her oversized handbag, finally pulling out a ten. "I have no idea why I'm giving this to you. I’m only going to win it back.”

“Allow me to wallow in my rare victory.” Farren tucked the ten into his pocket. The elevator chimed, and the door swished open.

Morrisey hadn’t shaved. Why the scruff did things to Farren’s insides, he couldn’t say. “Good morning, Morrisey,” he said, as though he hadn’t worried all night about Morrisey running away. “Are you ready to get started?”

“I am.” Morrisey kept a distance from Arianna’s desk as he started down the hallway. Farren matched his stride.

Arianna giggled and called after them. “I don’t bite! That’s just a rumor.”

Farren turned his head just enough to look into Morrisey’s face. “You know many rumors are founded in truth, don’t you?”

Morrisey's mouth fell agape.

Farren chuckled. “Just kidding. Arianna is good people, regardless of what world she’s in.” He sauntered down the passageway, turned right at Leary's office, and opened the next door. “This will be your office.”

He followed Morrisey inside. The space wasn’t nearly as large as Leary’s office but larger than Farren’s. Farren gladly sacrificed space not to work next to the boss.

The office contained a desk and chair, a small bookcase, and a round table with three chairs. A laptop sat on the table.

“Ah, I see Sykes has been here.” Faren deposited his backpack on the floor, removed his laptop, and set up shop next to Morrisey’s.

Morrisey sat and stared at his newly assigned laptop, watching the status bar for the million updates accumulated since the last time anyone used the aging Dell. No need to break out a new model until Morrisey showed he’d stay long enough to need an upgrade.

Farren would have to requisition a new computer and anything else needed to equip an office. He pulled folders and papers out of his backpack, arranging them on the table. “Would you like coffee or breakfast?”

“No, thanks. I’m ready to get started.” Morrisey looked haggard, which might be his default appearance. At least he didn't reek of alcohol.

Farren called up a photo on his laptop. “Here is the nurse we suspect your alley attacker now possesses. Her name is Veronica Henry. She hasn’t been seen since leaving the hospital, and her roommates say they haven’t heard from her. They’re supposed to call the moment they do. We’ve got Atlanta PD staking out her house.”

---