There was the faintest draft, and the door to her office swung shut. The dinosaur crouched and turned, splaying its fore-claws. Its eyes rolled back in its skull. Jan had seen the gesture before, on countless occasions. It was Napoleon’s attack posture.
She looked at the room’s reflection in her monitor, and saw Nimson coming in through the door behind her. Napoleon crept the length of the glass, snarling. He appeared to be looking beyond Dr. Nimson to the hallway, which was empty except for the janitor’s cart.
Jan shook her head and pushed back in her chair, swiveling around to face him. She exhaled as though giving up. “Somewhere between kindergarten and Yale you learned how to read—am I right?”
Nimson froze in mid-step, jokingly. “Meaning?”
“The sign,” She indicated the doorway with
