Marlowe
Wrench found me alone in the garage the next morning, and the way he set a fresh cup of coffee down in front of me without a word told me, before he said anything at all, that he'd already worked out considerably more than anyone had told him directly.
"You've been distracted," he said, settling onto his usual stool. "More than usual. Ceremony's got you rattled."
"It's a big deal. Nerves are normal."
"Sure they are." He studied me a long moment, something knowing and patient in his weathered expression. "I've trained a lot of prospects, Finch. Watched a lot of nerves before a lot of ceremonies. This isn't that. This is something else."
I didn't have a response ready, and he didn't push for one, just let the silence sit there a while before he spoke again, gentler this time.
"
