Michelangelo watched as the peacekeeper left the room, the door closing with a soft thud.
They listened in silence as his footsteps and that of his companions receded into the distance.
When he was sure the man was truly gone, the Attendant turned his eyes to the one who he'd identified as what would be the biggest stumbling block to his investigation.
It was a gut feeling, something he'd learned to trust, but he was sure that whatever was happening, James Harlow was in the thick of it.
The City Lord stood stiffly near the desk like he wanted to leap over it and wrong Michelangelo's neck for sitting in his… seat of office.
Michelangelo held his gaze, seeing through his mask of calm and identifying the fury simmering inside the man.
Anya the Arbiter stood to the side, her expression and body language both neutral. That was… interesting.
