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Summary
Cassian fought from fidgeting, and willed his face to maintain its professional cheer, tinged with a bumbling naïve earnestness act he wasn’t all that keen on Luthen getting to see firsthand, now that the security splice was giving him a front-row view.
He stood there, awkward, while final hushed words were exchanged. Whatever had happened, no one appeared to be pleased about the abrupt breaking up of a meeting that had taken weeks to schedule and was expected to drag on yet for hours. Once the last of the delegation had disappeared – to a separate berth area than the private one where Kleya was installing assorted surveillance and tracking devices in the senator’s speeders, thankfully – Senator Malri turned and swore under his breath.
“You’re here late, Willix.”
The observation was not made in a particularly pleased or praising tone; the earnestly naïve Willix was not much of one for subtext. “Yes, sir. Catching up on some correspondence and filing. Always seems to be something to do, doesn’t there?”
“Don’t oversell it,” Luthen griped.
Cassian ignored him.