“What’s it this time, Milo?” Paula yanked her arm out of Scotsman’s grip.
His expression was serious, lips curling hostile as he drawled the words.
“The Director ordered us to wait. Ye ahmnesiac or wha’?”
She took a similar stance, leaning forward aggressively.
“None of your business. I’m his handler, I do what I want.”
“Idiot—!”
Suddenly, he turned and hissed, the lab coat-clad man walking on the other side of the corridor taking a step back in surprise. A moment passed in awkward silence.
“Ye got a dog at home?” the agent inquired.
“Yeah…” the man stared, then walked away shaking his head.
“Damned cat remainders, Ah tell ye,” Milo muttered, returning to Paula. He pointed with his finger. “Ah don’t really care wha’ ye do to him, but the Director has different view on tha’. Just caw canny on him for a while, will ye?”
Paula huffed in annoyance.
“Stay away, Milo,” she spat out and walked away in the direction of common room.
Milo chose opposite direction. He would do a lot to get John under his wardship.