He lets his eyes roam around shortly on his surroundings before quickly bringing back his attention on the girl by his side. The power with which she expulsed him out of her head revealed her status: Strong. No doubt about it.

           She doesn't take any initiative to exit the vehicle. The quiet rumble of the motor fills the quiet night air. His puzzled eyes direct themselves to analyze Annela, in vain. The face on her head delicately held by an elegant neck is impassibly neutral.

          "Could I offer you a drink to thank you for bringing me back?" She nonchalantly suggests. "I insist, it was very nice of you and I'd feel bad if you refused, Tim."

          She pronounced his name and knew that subconsciously it would made him feel obliged, after it being preceded by a compliment and the formality of her request. The mix of it all was a deadly psychological manipulation. He looked away, out his window, thinking. At that moment Annela wished all her might to know what was going through his head.

          "Sure," he accepts. "I'd be glad to."

          A smile lightens her face, as she victoriously feels her trap enclosing on the officer.

          "Where can I park my car?"

           She shows him to a nearby closed hairdresser's shop, and he turns off the ignition with a swift movement of the wrist.

          As they get out of the car and he proceeds to lock it, she notices him replying to a message on his phone.

          She wonders why he didn't resist much to going with her. Why he didn't seem reluctant but still mistrusting. Either he was scared but the act he was pulling off was rather impressing Annela, or he wasn't scared.

          A Weak wouldn't just easily accept like that to be in the company of a Strong. It started to seem a little strange to the young lady, but she pushed the thought away, thinking perhaps he was just stupid.

          "Why did you move to this place?" He asks, starting a conversation. Despite the superficiality of the question, it took Annela off-guard. She couldn't let herself commit the irreparable mistake of divulging the real reason accidentally. Her heart beat accelerated almost indistinctively.

           "Oh I was just searching for a new environment to work in, away from my old town in Seattle, so I came down here where the weather's way better," she lies, adding a perfectly executed natural chuckle.

          "That's a real good reason you got there," he comments, daring another one of his charming smiles. "I also was so fed up of the cold and the snow in Canada."

          Still no city mentioned, she notices, he's good.

          She pulls a key out of her back zipped pocket in her shorts and opens the front door. They mount the stairs at an average pace and she unlocks the door to her flat, opening into a minimalistic living room, decorated by a modern combination of a light color palette.

          A small light blue couch sits in front of a television, separated by a wooden coffee table. She hangs her keys on an abstract figurine designed to do so and gestures her guest to the sofa. She walks to her small kitchen and opens the fridge.

          "Fruit juice, soda, beer?" She lists.

          "Beer please."

          She grabs two bottles and uncaps both of them. Enjoying the tension of the situation, she takes her time, taking long strides back to the living room. She hands him one bottle, both of them acknowledging the absence of visible efforts made to avoid contact, but acknowledging mutual effort.

          They both sit at opposite ends of the small couch, in symmetrical positions. A hand above the back of the seat and a leg in the middle, almost brushing the other's.

          "It's a beautiful place you've got yourself here," he comments, looking around. No personal belongings are left out of place, just a few abstract paintings hang on the immaculate walls.

          "Thank you very much," she automatically replies. "It seemed very practical, comfortable and cozy at first sight so the decision wasn't hard to make."

          He nods.

          An amused smile appears on her lips towards their ability to keep superficial conversations going.

          "So what does one do around here in this town?" She her turn inquires.

          He hums, thinking a short while, eyes darting to a high left. He's searching for a memory, Annela notes to herself. If he'd had looked the other way it would have been a lie. After all her missions she was still impressed by the reality of body language. During the courses she took with her tutor, she never believed him. Any small detail could be a fine information.

          "Most people live off their local commerce and tourism. Many businesses are exploding at the moment."

          "I didn't know that," she lies. "That's interesting," she reinforces, maintaining eye contact.

          "Yes, it's true, but alongside that, problems appear, and it makes it hard with all these waves of newcomers installing themselves here for the police to find drug dealers, and other thugs."

          "Hmm..." She thinks. "Yes it all seems pretty logical."

          He tilts his head naturally, almost as a bird does, eyeing a worm in the dirt. Her senses wake, all alert, to this new movement. She suddenly feels the urge to get her body closer to his, a familiar warm feeling growing in her body. The power of the mental attraction she this time immediately detects almost knocks her out of breath. She lays her beer on the coffee table, unable to unlock her eyes from his.

          His expression stays affable, but his blue eyes light up discreetly. A switch flips in her mind. She understands what he's trying to do. She lets him stay in her mind, having barricaded her inner thoughts containing top secret and extremely valuable information, leaving out useless memories of her moving in the studio.

          She knows she's playing with fire. But she now also knows he wasn't what she thought he was. He definitely is a Strong, but not as strong as her. Or pretending not to be. She honestly doesn't know, but doesn't push away the possibility. Tim wasn't as boring as she initially thought. She accesses his mind as well but faces nothing she already knows. He's withholding information too.

          Finally, she communicates, amused, eyes barely lighting up like his because of their darkness. We're dropping the act.

          His expression doesn't vary on the outside. But she feels him likewise excited by the situation.

          Do you work for the Paradox? He asks.

          Annela's attraction isn't all psychological now, but physical too. She lets her eyes glide on his large set of shoulders, passing from his thin pale neck, to his chest, lowering down to his powerful bare arms, and finishing on his veined hands, which's fingers are loose around the neck of the bottle sat between his wide-spread legs.

          I was wondering that about you too, she evasively subverts, battling to stay focused.

          He leans forward, reducing the space between her and himself, and the efforts needed to keep his hold on her mind.

          Guess we'll never know. He grins. He knows she isn't. She didn't reply the code answer: "No I don't work for that stupid and weak organization," which the combination of two negative adjectives varied every five minutes, sent to their members in an encoded message.