Back home that evening, Gianna sat cross-legged on her bed, papers spread around her like fallen leaves, samples carefully arranged beside her.
Her tablet was propped against a pillow, Vance's face occupying the screen as he talked her through a final adjustment, his voice calm, though his eyes, sometimes, were anything but.
Like her fellow work colleagues, he worried for her mind, for her wellbeing. Moreso, because unlike the others, he suspected that she had also been kidnapped the same last night.
How she had escaped unscathed, and still dropped at the company this morning, was quite bizarre to him. Worse, she wasn't scared in the least, didn't look bothered, nor did she sound bothered.
She was the usual Miss Gianna. Vance was worried.
However, he kept his observations to himself, and continued listing off what was required of him.
