The bullpen was loud. Not unusually loud. Just loud enough. Evie had escaped to the FBI library nearly twenty minutes ago, seeking the kind of quiet that only existed between rows of books.
She’d found it. Or so she’d thought. A familiar figure sat several shelves away, completely absorbed in a book thick enough to qualify as a weapon. Of course. A smile tugged at her mouth. She closed the distance slowly before settling onto the edge of a nearby table.
“For someone who spends most of his life reading,” she began, folding her arms loosely, “you have a remarkable talent for finding people who are actively trying to avoid conversations” tilting her head, she glanced at the title in his hands.
“So” a pause “what world are you living in today?”