He leaned back in his chair, feeling the gratifying clicking of his vertebrae as they interlocked and returned to their intended position. His hands reached up to poke his face unnaturally. He stopped himself, remembering that overly touching your face could cause acne, he sighed, who knew he'd fall into such a dark place that his whoring mother's advice would be appropriate? He knew his clock was ticking. One too many failed missions Devoto... One too many. The jeering voices of his colleagues could be heard in his head... Swerving and ducking away from the thoughts that could get him killed, or wors