"We haven't found him."
"I'm aware," said Eden. She continued to stare out the large glass window that made up the top half of the wall along the hallway. It was a decent view, oriented toward the heart of the city instead of toward the far docks. Plenty of buildings, a park, a vandalized statue. The rays of the midday sun gave every metallic surface in the distance a powerful glint, too.
"Should we keep looking?"
She glanced over her shoulder at the man. Stout, blond buzz cut, thick around the middle with short legs to hold him up. He looked like a hobbit convict. She didn't know him, but she did recognize that hideous mustache bristling all around his mouth like a misshapen possum shawl. A living possum shawl. Why was it moving like that? Was it trying to establish communication with
