"Yes, Mrs. Flack."
Peter Andrews followed Beauty Child out of the tool room and then followed her to the office. He was very curious about the communication equipment and asked, "What's this?"
Meanwhile, Gem Atkinson stepped into the tool room.
She couldn't be more familiar with this man. As he entered, the faint scent of sandalwood filled her nostrils. Forsythia Brown lowered her head even further and pretended to be a quail.
Gem walked past her, accidentally bumping her shoulder. He quickly stepped back two paces and out of the tool room, saying, "Sorry. It's a bit cramped in here."
There was a tug at the corner of Forsythia Brown's mouth. The tool room indeed was small, but fitting five or six people inside wasn't a problem; the chance for two people to collide in this space should be pretty low.
Gem glanced at her cleanly washed hands: no harm done!
He pointed toward the tool rack and said, "Could you help me get that toolbox down? I won't go in."
