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"Do you often get assigned such Bureau-unworthy cases?"

William and I had been sitting at the table of a fancy restaurant in the city centre for over an hour now, chatting about anything and everything. We had come here straight from his office despite my flagrant need for a shower. To my relief the restaurant was equipped with AC, and after checking myself in the washroom, my blouse had dried up by the time I met him at the table.

He had made it a point that I called him by his first name instead of Doctor, and the noun only slipped my lips twice before using his first became natural. Our conversation was fluid, and not forced, and I had quickly found myself relaxing to his words.

Somehow it had shifted back to the case.

"More frequently than you'd think," I answered, picking a piece of salmon with my fork.

A soft laugh escaped his lips.

"And do you often solve those cases?"

Curiosity marked his features. His eyebrows were raised, his eyes full of interest. Were we still talking about FBI cases? He was so hard to read, I couldn't be sure. I picked up the glass of white wine that sat in front of my plate and brought it to my lips. The light peach aromas of the off-dry wine brought my senses to life the moment it touched my tongue. I had never had such exquisite wine before, and I was truly savouring it.

"Most of the time, yes," I said, placing my glass back on the table before brushing my napkin on my lips. "They aren't usually so—"

"Barbaric?"

"Evidence-less."

He laughed, and like earlier in his office, it was gone in a flash. He stayed quiet for a moment, simply looking at me.

"You seem like you've seen a lot," he stated, and I could almost hear a hint of compassion in his voice.

"I have."

And that was true. Being a Hunter meant being confronted with death on a daily basis. The horrors the creatures were capable of haunted my dreams. This life was no fairytale.

"More than most."

The tone of his voice made it clear it wasn't a question. That he somehow knew exactly what I had been through. Could he really be a Hunter? The question was burning my tongue, but deep down I doubted it. No Hunter would have time to have a day job, even less a surgeon job.

Our waiter came and picked up our empty plates. We both thanked him and he was on his way.

"Do you often come to England? You've really been lucky with the weather, it's not usually this warm."

I welcomed his question with a small smile. I was grateful he changed the subject, dark thoughts were starting to cloud my mind.

"This is my first time actually. Well, first time since I was a baby. I was born here, but my parents were not big fans and we moved abroad before my first birthday. And my uncle thinks I've got everything I need back home, so there is no need to look elsewhere for it."

My heart skipped a beat when I realized I was oversharing. This had never happened before.

"But we're short staffed at the Bureau, so they sent me," I quickly added, hoping I saved myself from blowing my cover.

Surprise sat on his features. And I couldn't blame him, I had barely met him and he already knew more than most. Shit.

"You're British," he said, almost amazed.

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