Pawn of Fate
"The callus on your middle finger. You spend a lot of time drafting by hand.
That, plus the way you're standing – slightly apart from the crowd, observing. You're used to analyzing systems, seeing how things fit together."
I gaped at him. "That's... impressive. And a little creepy."
He shrugged, unapologetic. "Observation is a useful skill in my line of work."
"And what line of work is that?" I asked, curiosity overriding my usual caution.
"Now that," he said, leaning in close enough that I could feel his breath on my ear, "would be telling."
The music shifted, a pulsing beat that seemed to vibrate through my bones.
The man set down his glass and held out a hand. "Dance with me?"
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