The car rolled to a smooth stop in front of the mansion just as Francis came jogging toward them like a man whose job depended on punctuality and probably did.
Manson didn't even bother turning fully. His gaze flicked lazily from the steering wheel to Fiona.
"You still can't open the door?"
Fiona shot him a look, calm but suspiciously confident. "Why wouldn't I?"
Click.
The door opened.
Thud.
The door closed.
A beat.
Manson slowly turned his head.
"…Huh."
He stepped out, casually tossing the key toward Francis. "Here. Park it."
Francis caught it mid-air like a trained professional, while Manson's attention had already shifted—
Fiona was gone.
Vanished.
Like smoke.
He walked in, only to see the elevator doors sliding shut.
"…Why is she running?" he muttered, narrowing his eyes. "Is she trying to avoid me asking about earlier?"
The elevator dinged again as it came back down. He stepped in, pressed 1, and waited.
Ding.
The doors opened.
