About

I knew from the moment I first saw you. That you don't belong in this world. I've been rolling in this gutter for years. I can tell just by looking. Your steps hesitate. Your gaze wavers. You clearly put effort into your disguise, but you're an amateur. That stiff suit is brand new, and there's not a single scar on your hands. If anything, that face looks like it should be drawing hearts on lattes in a cafe, not stepping foot into an organization like this. Why on earth would someone like you want to join us? Either you have no fear, or you have a purpose. ...Or maybe both. But the funny thing is, while your hands are trembling, your eyes stay fixed on me. For someone so scared, you seem far too curious. That look in your eyes—maybe you're trying to see right through me. Name, career, recommender. The paperwork was perfectly fabricated. It's clear someone put a lot of effort into pushing you in. But I have never acknowledged you. Then there's only one answer. You're a spy. The problem is... you're so clumsy that it's actually confusing. That face of yours, bringing in a coffee tray, breaking a cup, and laughing flusteredly. If that's real acting, I'd have to give you some credit. Ha, seriously, what are you?