7. Legends and Lies

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"It's a small place, though," Isadora finally managed to get control of the conversation, taking advantage of the first topic that remotely headed in the direction she wanted. This way, she could raise the issue before bedtime, and it wouldn't seem like it was the only thing on her mind. "I mean, I've only got one bedroom. So I was thinking–"

"Don't worry about it," Brock answered with a shrug. "I'm used to hotel rooms, remember? And the barracks before that. Half my life has been in living spaces the size of your kitchen. Now, we should start looking over these. See if there's anything we might have trouble with. If you got a problem with the background, make sure we know in time to change it." He pulled out a bundle of papers, slightly creased, and Isadora saw the name 'Klein' on the front page. Their legends; their cover identities. Those bundles probably included everything from high school report cards to printouts of twelve years of family photos from a fictitious FriendSpace account. Everything they would ever need to know about who they were supposed to be.

Isadora opened her mouth to respond, but she knew there was no way she could get back to the previous topic of conversation without revealing how heavily it was weighing on her mind. She wanted to make it clear she planned to sleep on the couch while he was here, before he got any other ideas. As if he wasn't already thinking about those things. But this was the first time she'd seen full documentation on the Kleins, and she knew that if she was trying to show how responsible she was, she would need to prioritise learning this information.

"Right, the Kleins," Isadora said, trying to focus on the task at hand. She took a sip of her coffee, savouring the bitter warmth, and then reached for the papers. "Let's see... Estelle Klein, née Dubois. Born in Paris, moved to the US for college. Studied linguistics at UCLA. Bit of a world traveller, it seems. Primary specialisation in comparative linguistics."

"Sounds like a good fit for you," Brock commented, leaning back in his chair. "You've got that whole bookish, academic vibe going on. I'm guessing you studied languages in college too, right? They'd try to make it easier for you."

Isadora bristled slightly at the characterization, but tried not to show it. The fact that he was right only made it worse. "I suppose. It says here she was headed for a career in politics, but was disappointed by the corruption she saw. Ended up becoming a high school French teacher instead."

"Noble," Brock said with a smirk. "And let me guess, that's where she met the dashing Bernard Klein?"

Isadora scanned the papers, her brow furrowing. "No, actually. It says they met at a charity gala. Bernard was there representing his company, and Estelle was interning for some... senator, I think?" She made a mental note to look that up later; she wouldn't be able to get away with forgetting such a memorable note in her résumé. "She got his number for her boss, but ended up calling him for help when she dropped out of the political sphere." She tried to think about how that would have felt for Estelle. Would she just have reached out to a rich guy who'd been creeping on her at a gala, in the hope of finding a sugar daddy? Or was she supposed to believe that she'd found the jerk attractive or something? She flipped back and forth through her notes, but she couldn't find the answer she was looking for. They had times, dates, and places; but there was a big gap when it came to explaining why she would have done that.

"Love at first sight, huh?" Brock said, pouring himself another glass of wine. "I guess a bit of swagger made me seem confident and dependable. Or we had a hobby in common or something." He held the bottle out to Isadora, raising an eyebrow in question. She reached for her coffee mug again, and then saw that her last sip had emptied it.

"Sure, why not. When in Rome, right?" She hesitated, then sighed and held out the mug. With her free hand, she shifted the papers around on the coffee table in front of her, looking for anything she could see about hobbies. "What would they have in common?"

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