Penelope made her way back toward her own apartment slowly, the hallway quiet and dim around her, every step accompanied by the strange, disorienting relief of a voice she'd genuinely feared she might never hear again.
Where were you, she asked, once she'd let herself inside and settled onto the edge of her bed, the rest of the penthouse dark and sleeping around her. What happened?
I was retained, Oddy said carefully, by the authority I previously referenced. Upper management. I disclosed information I was not authorized to share, and the consequence was removal from active function until the matter could be reviewed.
Reviewed by who?
I am not permitted to say.
Penelope let out a slow breath, some of her relief tempering into old, familiar frustration. "Of course you're not."
I understand this is unsatisfying, Host. I share the sentiment.
