Sins of the Son: the Grigori Legacy
““I can clear my schedule if you need to talk.” Hugh rubbed a hand over his eyes. The vague tension touched off by the conversation he’d had with Detective Jarvis’s boss had escalated into a full-fledged headache with the news of Katherine Gray’s suicide. Opening his top desk drawer, he rummaged inside for the acetaminophen he kept there.
“I’m fine,” he answered Liz. “Generally pissed at myself, but fine.” “Then what are the pain killers for?” He pulled the receiver from his ear for a second and... gave it a sour look. Then he tucked it back into the crook of his neck and opened the pill bottle—a two-handed job because of the childproof lid. “What are you, psychic?” “I can hear the bottle.” “I have a headache. I’m fine.” “I’ve known you for more than ten years, Hugh. It’s in your voice. You’re not fine.” “Then I’ll be fine once the headache is gone.” Tossing back two tablets, he reached for the cold coffee on his desk and grimaced at the congealed cream floating on its surface.MoreLess
“I’m fine,” he answered Liz. “Generally pissed at myself, but fine.” “Then what are the pain killers for?” He pulled the receiver from his ear for a second and... gave it a sour look. Then he tucked it back into the crook of his neck and opened the pill bottle—a two-handed job because of the childproof lid. “What are you, psychic?” “I can hear the bottle.” “I have a headache. I’m fine.” “I’ve known you for more than ten years, Hugh. It’s in your voice. You’re not fine.” “Then I’ll be fine once the headache is gone.” Tossing back two tablets, he reached for the cold coffee on his desk and grimaced at the congealed cream floating on its surface.MoreLess
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