Silas stood with a grim expression, looking out over the busy city below.
People moved without stopping, cutting across pavements and disappearing into buildings, living lives entirely unaware of the things being decided in rooms above them.
He watched them for a moment with the detached attention of someone who had long since stopped expecting the world to slow down.
The sun sat directly over his face, sharpening the darker red of his eyes and the strong, prominent line of his nose.
He took out his phone and checked the time. It was moving too slowly. The interview still sat ahead of him like an obligation that refused to arrive and get itself over with.
He went to his contacts and dialed a number from the log. It rang twice.
