Pearl

Chapter Twenty-Two: Coffee

With a flick of her wrist Rose snapped the folder closed, her face expressionless as she made eye contact with the woman who had delivered the report. The messenger stood motionless in a professional, fitted suit - a clear marker of who had sent her. 

Rose tossed the folder onto the desk at her side, before brushing past the messenger on her way out the door. Behind her the woman sagged, letting out a series of deep, slow breaths to make up for the minutes of prolonged shallow breathing as she had waited for Rose's reaction.

The head researcher strode down the hall of the Facility, leaving the door open behind her. Farheen used to scold her about not locking doors, but stopped once it became clear that no one in the Facility was stupid enough to take the invitation to pry.

The business sector of the Facility had its own floor, and Rose had her arms crossed as she rode the elevator down multiple levels. She tapped one finger against the opposite elbow, barely registering the other occupant--a researcher who leaned forcefully against the side as if to give more space to the tiny woman who stood square in the center of the car.

When the double doors opened Rose stepped out into the hall, walking a straight, unyielding path to her desired door, forcing employees and representatives from prospective clients alike to make way for her. The floor quickly grew quieter as her presence resonated through the halls and suddenly everyone turned attentive eyes to the work in front of them.

Without knocking, Rose threw open the door to her stepbrother's office.

"What do you mean you borrowed the T3 prototype?" she said by way of greeting, stopping with both hands planted on the near edge of his large cherrywood desk.

Gabriel finished signing and dating the document in front of him before looking up, a wry smile splitting his face. He was wearing an especially impeccable black-on-grey suit and tie that followed the lines of his body as if he had been born into it.

"Yes, hello to you--"

"Oh, stuff it. Instead, explain to me exactly what you thought you were doing when you placed our newest prototype in the hands of idiots who have nothing but failure to recommend them."

"In their stomachs, actually, not their hands," he said, his smile deepening, "and don't they seem like a perfect match for it, then, as failures? I believe I heard you say yourself that this particular breed of the T3 was a disaster."

"All the more reason to avoid sending it out! What if it makes the news? Can you imagine the publicity if an unspecified, contagious parasite were discovered?" She clicked her tongue, pushing off the desk and turning away from him. "I thought you were in charge of business strategy." 

"I suppose it comes as a surprise that I did, in fact, think this through," he said slowly, propping his elbows on the desk and resting his chin on his interlaced fingers.

"I assure you," she said, voice steady as she studied the wall, "the only thing that wasn't a surprise about this venture was how much of a disappointment you continue to be."

A muscle along Gabriel's jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth, but he neither tensed from his relaxed position nor let his smile waver as he picked up a file tucked to the side of his desk and read aloud: "The T3 prototype is unstable. It can barely maintain its own shape, much less a mutually beneficial bond with its host. Within ten minutes of the host dying the symbiont denatures, detaches from the stomach lining, and dissolves in the stomach acid." 

He set the file down and looked up at Rose, who had turned to watch him over her shoulder. 

"Is this not true?" he asked.