In Lorne's bedroom at 69 Rose Street.
He sat alone at his desk, his brows knitted and his expression glum.
"Did I... give the wrong answer at the end?"
Thinking of the distinctly sulky look on Fors's face when they parted that day, Lorne felt a wave of bewilderment.
Had she really discovered something? But even if she had, she shouldn't have reacted like that. An intelligent woman who noticed something amiss might probe him or distance herself, but she certainly wouldn't act almost as though she were sulking.
Although he had indeed made a few careless slips, Lorne believed there was still a substantial difference between his two identities, "James Scott" and "Lorne Dysenk"-at the very least, being Scott allowed him to act more freely-
"Looks like I don't need to be so restrained when I'm with Fors as Scott, or worry so much about her feelings." Then, as though trying to convince himself, he gritted his teeth. "Hmph! I don't owe her anything. Why should I accommodate her-"
"If anything, she's the one who owes me!"
That was the truth. Honestly, neither of Lorne's identities owed Fors anything. If Lorne Dysenk still felt some attachment to her as a pen friend, then James Scott was nothing less than the man who had saved her life.
"She's got our positions completely backward! Sure enough, Scott should be more uninhibited. Being too considerate of other people's feelings only causes trouble for me-"
After grumbling inwardly for a while, Lorne finally felt a little calmer. He decided to put the matter aside for now and picked up the Firearms Factory's latest income and expenditure statements to examine them closely.
"Damn it! Why are prices rising so fast? Copper and several other commonly used metals have all gone up by twenty percent!