Honey stood in the dimly lit study, she looked unlike her usually well maintained robe, hair mused, robe dirty with coffee stains. The bright light that came from a desk lamp angled just so, casting a sharp cone of illumination over the chaos spread across her desk. Photographs, documents, newspaper clippings, surveillance stills, an obsessive gathering of information arranged with deliberate care.
She held one photograph delicately between two manicured fingers.
"Look at you," Honey murmured, her voice low and almost affectionate.
The enlarged photo trembled faintly as she adjusted her grip, lifting it closer to the light. The image was grainy, blown up far beyond what it had ever been meant to endure. Pixels blurred at the edges, colors bleeding unnaturally into one another. Still, the subject was unmistakable to her trained eye.
