The innate kindness of my new partner is both disconcerting and astounding. I don’t understand him at all.
Agent Leo Snow is, I’ve concluded, a very strange individual. He seems entirely unsuited to the life of an agent. I’ve not seen enough to judge his technical skill while out on missions, but his sunny disposition and general air of naivety, which appears to be genuine and not an act for others’ benefit, makes me feel uneasy.
He comes off as young to me, even though I know he’s technically older than I am. I can’t help but wonder why he decided to join FISA in the first place. It seems possible he was coerced into becoming an agent by his aunt, but there’s been no real evidence to suggest that so far. There’s also the possibility he experienced a loss or incident which made him feel the need to prove something, to protect himself or other people. To make up for a mistake, his own or someone else’s.
“How are you getting on?” Leo asks, his head tilting slightly in observation. I’m used to being observed for my reaction to things. It’s been a staple of my life from age three onwards. I’ve moved beyond bristling in reaction to it.
“Absolutely fantastic, thanks for asking,” I reply drolly.
“You’rewelcome.” Leo puts a jaunty emphasis on the second word, flashing yet another grin at me.
I have the sudden impulse to smack it right off his face. It’s an impulse I barely manage to repress.
“Has anyone ever told you, you’re incredibly irritating?” I ask, managing to sound only mildly pissed off at the world, which is a definite improvement.
“No,” Leo says without inflection. “Has anyone ever told you glowering isn’t supposed to be a hobby? Stop misusing your facial muscles in this way, Jack. Because they will fight back, and then where will you be? Smiling like a clown, I’d wager. That’s what I would do if I were a muscle hell-bent on revenge against a moody git who abused my good nature on a daily basis.”
I stare at him in disbelief.
“Could you be, like, ten percent less of a weirdo? For me? As a gift?”
Leo’s general sense of low-level euphoria does not dim in the face of my unimpressed tone.
“Are you in a snit again?” he prods. “What’s upset you? The mission went well.”
My soft glower turns into a glare at the mention of the mission. My feelings about everything are so mixed up, it makes it hard to curtail my automatic reaction because I don’t have enough handle on my emotions to know which ones to tamp down or play up.
“The last mission I went on that ended in a roomful of bodies was when OI took time from me.” When Leo’s eyebrows raise in question, I explain. “OI shot me up with some bullshit blue drug that short-circuited my brain. I can’t remember anything about the mission they sent me on when I was under. No matter how hard I try, it’s just a blank wall of nothing where my memories should be.”
Leo’s expression becomes mildly horrified for a handful of seconds before he manages to compose himself. His face turns thoughtful, like he’s trying to figure something out from what I’ve said.
“Did you think killing those agents today might trigger a memory from that other mission?” he asks carefully.
“Don’t psychoanalyse me,” I bite out at him, annoyed at myself for accidentally revealing too much, again.
Leo looks at me like I’ve said something funny.
“Will I not like you when you’re psychoanalysed?” he asks, clearly making a reference I don’t understand.
“I already have Agent Green poking around inside my head,” I mutter irritably. “She doesn’t need outside interference messing with the process.”
“What’s the process?” Leo asks, intrigued.
I can tell he’s humouring me, his overly confident brand of patience seemingly endless. I’m not above taking advantage of it.
“The process of slowly lulling me into a false sense of security to make me more susceptible to their corruptive influence.” I flash him a sardonic smile, with teeth just barely peeking through.
“Corruptive influence?” Leo blows out a loud breath. “Blimey. Sounds hardcore. Do you mean the serving our country thing or the working against Obsidian Inc. thing?”
This man is absolutely impossible.
“I have no problem working against Obsidian Inc.,” I bark at him, fighting the need to grind my teeth. If I did that every time Leo irked me, my teeth would be nothing but stubs by now.
“Good to know,” Leo says, a barely veiled smile still playing about his lips. “I’m very relieved to hear you aren’t secretly a double agent.”
I squint at him in confusion.
“If I were a double agent, then why would I ever admit to being a double agent?”
