He sees me.
Of course he sees me.
“Miss Jones,” he purrs. “Or is it Principal now?”
“Ms.” I snap. “Andwhatin the galaxy do you think you’re doing here?”
“Applying,” he says, holding up a crisp folder. “I heard you were in dire need of educators.”
Jennings is already halfway to him, hand extended. “You’re a teacher?”
“Certified across three systems,” Jav replies smoothly. “Early Developmental Education with a focus in Inter-Species Behavior. I specialize in classroom cohesion, emotional regulation, and?—”
“—interrogation techniques,” I mutter.
He ignores me.
Jennings takes the folder, eyes scanning the contents like she’s just been handed a winning lottery ticket. “Everything’s in order. No gaps. Oh—references!”
“All glowing, I assure you.”
“They’re from unlisted contacts in security,” she murmurs, flipping pages. “That’s impressive. You worked on Cephalon-4?”
“Briefly,” he says, casually.
“You survived Cephalon-4?”
“With honor.”
I sputter. “Hewasn’t?—!”
“Ms. Jones,” Jennings says, holding up a hand. “I’m desperate. And he’s breathing. Unless you’ve got somethingsubstantialto share, I’m moving forward.”
“Oh, I’ve gotsubstantial,” I growl.
Jav steps closer. “Don’t I get a personal interview?”
“Not in this century,” I snap.
He leans down, and his voice lowers just enough to make my skin prickle. “You said you needed someone who could handle chaos.”
“I meantchildren.”
He smirks. “Same difference.”
Jennings waves a hand. “Look, if he’s willing to take the morning shift and doesn’t get eaten by the pack, we can talk longer-term. You said you wanted consistency. This guy looks like he doesn’t rattle easy.”
“That’s because he’s missing the part of his brain that feels guilt or fear,” I hiss.
“And yet,” Jav says, smiling, “I’m very good with children.”
I spin on him. “What game are you playing?”
“No game,” he says, all mock innocence. “I just want to contribute to the community.”
“And you pickedthiscommunity? Mine?”
He glances past me, toward the hall.
