Phil was carrying crates in from the truck in the motor pool when Leslie strolled in. She slipped up behind him and gently ran her nails down the back of his neck.
A light bulb behind the telekinetic exploded as Phil whirled around. "You." He frowned. "I didn't even sense you coming."
"Is that any way to say hello?" Leslie asked.
Phil sighed. "What do you need?"
"I wanted to talk to you," Leslie said.
"That's fine," Phil said, "but right now I'm in the middle of-"
"I know about Gabriela," Leslie told him.
Phil froze. "What about her?"
"I know that she didn't die in New York any more than you did."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Phil said as he went back to moving the crate.
"For a good spy, you make a bad liar," Leslie said.
Phil looked at her inquisitively. "What do you know about New York?"
"I don't know if we should discuss that here," Leslie said.
Phil set down the crate, walked over, and pulled the tarp off the Viper. "Get in," he ordered. "We're going for a drive."
