She caught sight of him in the doorway, leaning against the frame, hardly more than a silhouette in the quickly darkening twilight. “What are you doing here?” she asked, purposely keeping her attention on the archive machine, gathering the Professor’s notes and diagrams and imprinting them on the data discs for storage.
“I forgot my lesson plan,” he said in that rumbling voice that made her stomach tighten.
“Did you?” She tried to hide her pleased smile. “I was under the impression you carried the chip tucked safely away in the drive storage beneath your wrist dock.”
He straightened and stepped in further, walking into the late evening light that streamed through the windows. His lips curved just slightly, but his brown eyes shined with untold mischief. “Ah,” he said slowly, his gaze fixed on hers, “there it is.”
“What are you really doing here?” Continue reading
Isabelle
thephoneix
Lisa Asanuma
