Hank Finn sat sprawled on the black leather couch, a cigarette between his lips and a deck of poker cards in his hand. It was clear he possessed a master's touch; rolling them with an amusing agility that verged on hypnotic.
The room was dimly lit, making him appear unusually white.
He was not surprised or bothered by the intrusion into his computer's territory. A glance later, he murmured, "Long time no see, Richard Johnson."
Caleb Baker squinted. He let his eyes wander over the man sitting across from Hank Finn.
"It seems I picked a poor time to visit."
At that remark, a hint of amusement flitted across Hank Finn's lips, though void of warmth. He replied, sullenly deep, "That's nonsense. You're always a welcomed guest."
With that, he stole a glance at the man across from him through rising smoke.
"Would you both mind talking together?"
As for Caleb Baker, his expression was unreadable.
The man sitting across from Hank Finn was...
