POV: Dante
Noir's tower has a smell that I know by heart: metal, glass, expensive coffee, and stress. Sometimes I forget that there is a world outside of this. Sebastian doesn't.
"If you keep sleeping on the shadow level, I'm going to ask them to charge you rent," he says, leaning against the frame of my office door. "Come have a beer."
"I have things to do," I reply without looking up from the screen.
"ND-07 will still be there in an hour," he replies. "Your liver, maybe not."
I close the Umbra window. The identifier flashes for a second before disappearing. I've been reviewing patterns and calls since dawn. The board meeting didn't help. Being asked to consider "scenarios" where you hand over the woman you love is never a good way to start the day.
"Thirty minutes," I give in. "Somewhere without vampires or directors."
"That exists," he smiles. "It's called a wolf bar."
