The moment Neville's footsteps faded down the corridor, Bryan Stewart turned to Grayson with a raised eyebrow, with a smile that never quite reached his eyes.
"You could've asked the others," he said casually, though his gaze seemed to see through him. "Julius had some of his people follow us. They can roam around and send us inspection results. Why let Hope go?"
Grayson didn't look up from the holographic reports flickering above his light brain. "He needs something to do."
"Ah." Bryan leaned forward in his seat, resting his chin on his interlaced fingers. "Something to do. Or did you mean—he wasn't needed here?"
"No." Grayson's voice dropped, grave and low. "There were others inside."
Bryan's expression changed. His casual mask cracked just a little and turned serious. He didn't look around blatantly and continued with his slouched posture, one hand casually adjusting the cuff of his sleeve.
"When?" he whispered, the single word barely more than a breath of air.
