Abhijat had expected to see many things upon entering his father’s former office for the first time since his resignation.

What he had not expected, however, was to see the Prime Minister perched on the desk in an oversized lilac sweater, his feet dangling off the edge of the large mahogany table and swinging in the air, as he gazed intently into a slim tablet in his hand.

Jehan was tinkering with the device and taking notes into a notebook balanced on his thigh. As he tapped away on the tablet, he held a pen in his mouth while another was tucked behind his ear. Multi-colored ink stains marred his nose and his temple.

He looked like a careless schoolboy struggling with homework, rather than an evil mastermind planning an illicit power-grab.

For a brief moment, Abhijat wondered if it had all been one huge misunderstanding. Because this was the absent-minded but brilliant scientist his father had bragged about at family dinners for all these years. The type of man who could barely tie his own shoelaces without adult supervision, much less stage a vindictive political coup against his friend and benefactor.

“Did we enter an alternate universe on the way here? Do you remember stepping through any mirrors?” Ruqaiya’s confused whisper jolted Abhijat out of his reverie, and he shook his head in an effort to clear it.

It seemed to have had a similar impact on Jehan as well, because the Prime Minister abandoned his focused study of the tablet in favor of staring wide-eyed at the newcomers. He then blinked rapidly a half-dozen times before his mouth fell open, which in turn caused him to drop the pen he’d been holding between his lips.

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At this cataclysmic event, Jehan’s eyes widened even further and he dove forward to catch the pen, snatching it from the air half a second before it could hit the floor.

“Brilliant! Should we clap?” drawled Ruqaiya, striding into the chamber and signaling for Abhijat to follow.

Putting the tablet and the notebook aside, Jehan smiled brightly at her and hopped off the desk. “Madam Dehran!” he said, as if he had just noticed her existence. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“To the fact that you’ve acquired a new head of security, of course,” she grinned, beckoning Abhijat to step forward. “Excellent man. Military background. Impeccable record. I’d vouch for him myself.”

“That I daresay you would.” Jehan extended his hand to Abhijat, smiling at him with guileless warmth. It was disconcerting. “I do hope you’ll like it here, Mr. Shian. And that you’ll stay…longer than your predecessor, at least. I never did learn what possessed him to leave. I’m not that bad a boss, I should hope.”

Abhijat stiffened at the mention of his surname. Did Fasih recognize him? He didn’t think Ruqaiya had introduced him yet. A sideways glance at her convinced him that she was equally baffled.

He grasped Fasih’s pale hand in his own and offered him a tight smile. “It’s an honor to serve you, sir.” The words stung his throat on the way out.

Fasih waved a hand and laughed, hopping back onto the desk. “Don’t be ridiculous. And for the love of all that’s holy, don’t call me sir. It makes me feel stodgy.”

“As you wish, sir. I mean…Dr. Fasih.”

“Please,” said the Prime Minister plaintively. “Call me Jehan.”

“Well, you two seem to be getting on swimmingly,” Ruqaiya interjected. “I’ll leave you to it, then. I have a meeting I need to attend in…” she checked her phone. “Fifteen minutes.”

Abhijat looked at her through narrowed eyes, but she paid him no mind, turned on her heel and strode out of the chamber.

“Tea?” Fasih said with a hopeful smile.