Description
Not this bullshit again, was the kneejerk reaction Niara had when she opened her door to the sight of the two tweed-suited men standing on her front porch, trying to peer through the screen.
Alike as two bookends from their regulation haircuts on down to their shiny black shoes, they both had that pasty-pale look Niara knew far too well. The look that spoke of too much time spent in dusty, air-conditioned libraries pushing paper and not nearly enough out doing the real work. The look of someone that usually foisted that sort of thing off on others to do for them, far too busy sitting around congratulating each other on a job well done, even when that job was done by someone else.
“Can I help you?” she asked, not bothering to curtail the irritation dripping from her tone at this interruption to her first proper day off in weeks.
