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Arastoo smiled when he spotted Vincent waiting for him.
“Ah, Mr. Nigel-Murray,” he said, in his old lilt before remembering that he wasn’t hiding his identity anymore. “Sorry,” he muttered. Force of habit.”
“It’s alright.” Vincent replied. “I’m still doing the obsessive fact-spewing routine.”
“But Dr. Wyatt helped you control that.”
“It’s what they expect.”
“Here’s something they wouldn’t expect,” Arastoo whispered, leaning in for a kiss.
He could just imagine the expression on Dr. Saroyan’s face at the sight of her token Muslim and her pet Brit locking lips.
It was a pity she’d never get to see it.