He stares at me, trying to plumb the depths of my soul through my eyes. I slam a mental barrier in place, just in case he is something more than human. The whole, “the eyes are the window to a man’s soul,” thing is true, but only if you would actually recognize what a soul looks like.
“Very well Justin,” he says through gritted teeth, “I’ll not ask about your family, but I warn you that I will not make many such concessions.”
“I understand, and appreciate that,” I say. “I’ll try to keep the requests to a minimum from here on out.”