Eighteen Months Later. Monday. Thames House Security Service Headquarters. London, United Kingdom.
MILES GREEN STARED STRAIGHT ahead at his reflection, arms pumping at his side while guitars shredded his ear drums. It would take about fifty miles or so to run his anger out. He was committed to the task. It wasn't like there was anything else he could do. Until the internal review was done, he was effectively sidelined from doing anything meaningful.
Once more he cursed his past self. If he'd just looked away. If he hadn't noticed the woman's tears. If he hadn't gone by the book.
He'd never been able to handle a woman crying. It was his weakness. He didn't know where it came from. The only thing that made sense was that there hadn't been many tears in their household growing up. He didn't know how to handle them. Logically, it was a load of bull, but it was the only answer he made.