Devi sipped her scotch and smiled at Simms. “Had to come and see if you were surviving, didn't I? You've been getting weird on us. Almost moral. Figured you must be ill.”
Simms knocked back a mouthful of Scotch, thinking what to say. He'd been trying to make some progress on the clONE case for two days and had gotten nowhere. He'd asked her here for help. Not for a lecture.
“I traded you the Zombies of Death DNA for hard information,” he said. “It made perfect business sense.”
“Is that right?”
Simms sat back, trying to find the right words. The warm bite of the Scotch cushioned him from reality. His plugins reacted by implementing the intoxication-handling rules he'd set up, locking out wild or dangerous behaviour. He let them run. They generally knew what they were doing.
A gentle hu
