Skinner still hasn't looked up at me. I dump the prosthetic arm on his desk casually and at this his head jerks up, a question in his eyes.
"You could have just told me They were going to assassinate me," I say, my arms folded over my chest.
Skinner turns his attention back to the file spread out over his desk. "I don't know what you're talking about, Agent."
I nod. Had I really expected anything else? "Thank you for the kitten, sir," I say instead. "She has already demonstrated her worth in controlling... pests."
He acknowledges me with a slight nod of his head.
Just as I turn to leave, he says, "I hear Agent Fowley is allergic to cats too."
Was that a hint of a smile in his voice?
I can't be sure because a wicked, wicked thought has entered my mind.
Pest control... indeed.