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Torey feels the presence suddenly, the hair on the back of his neck raising a fraction of a second before he becomes acutely aware of the next sensation - cold, sharp metal pressed firmly against his neck. A leather gloved hand has a hold on his arm, effectively immobilizing him against the attack. He feels breath against the side of his head.
“You’re awfully comfortable in the chairman’s office.”
The voice is deep, smooth in a way that would be calming in any other circumstance. This is not any other circumstance. Pausing just a moment, Torey twists in the attacker’s grip, kicking backwards at anything he can reach. He misses, and the hold disappears far too easily as his attacker… chuckles?
“You’re more perceptive than he is.”
Turning his head, Torey finds his gaze meeting steel grey eyes, set in a face that is unplacably familiar. The stranger’s hands are raised in surrender, knife still perched between them. Inexplicably, a name comes to Torey’s mind, one whispered often under Shion’s breath when he thinks no one is listening.
“Nezumi?” The question slips out before Torey can think to stop it.
“In the flesh.” The stranger - Nezumi - tucks the knife away, dipping into a bow. “I see my reputation precedes me.”
“You could say that.” Torey thinks of the wistful gazes, and so, so many conversations held at the water cooler, speculating his very existence, let alone his relation to Shion. He hates to admit it, but the stranger is right - the chairman is not perceptive at times.
“Well, I’m sorry I will have to disappoint so many of you.” With a quirk of the lips, Nezumi pulls out a folded piece of paper with an all too familiar coffee stain just along the corner. “I have been called many things, but even some of these theories were new to me.”
Torey can feel his face going white, instinctively stepping forward as if to reach for the paper now being unfolded against Nezumi’s leg. He stops himself just before he can actually lift his hand - best not to aggravate the man who just threatened him with a knife. Nezumi only smiles, plucking a pen off the desk as he quickly scribbles several notes across the page. Humming, he circles something on the paper, handing it back to Torey.
“Here. Your answer.”
Glancing down, Torey can see a name and an explanation circled, officially ending the office betting pool.
Sliding off the desk with ease, Nezumi produces a small scrap of paper from his pocket, an address neatly handwritten across it. Torey recognizes it as the popular bakery in Lost Town, the one Shion’s mother runs.
“An apology. For your betting pool ending, and that unrequited crush of yours. If it’s any consolation, you’re not the first one to fall for an airhead like him.” A brief shadow passes over Nezumi, but it’s gone before Torey is even sure he’s seen it, replaced instead with an expression that almost seems… understanding? Pitying? It’s hard to tell. Torey’s almost certain Nezumi is more of an enigma in person than he ever was before.
“You can break the good news to your coworkers tomorrow, be sure to pick up your catering order first. They’ll need it.” Turning, Nezumi moves towards the door. He pauses just before he crosses the threshold, glancing back over his shoulder as if it were an afterthought.
“Be sure to tell Mama Karan that Nezumi sent you.”
In a blink, he’s gone, and Torey is left alone. ‘Amal will be excited that he won.’