there scratching his head, not only wondering what she was doing there, but what the hell compliment she was talking about.
Bill Morishi wasn't expecting to find himself under scrutiny that morning. Scrutiny, in fact, that seemed to border on the threatening. What he had anticipated, instead, was a simple, not-particularly-fancy meal at the Eclipse Cafe while he took the quiet time in the morning to go over some reports. The information that Dr. Trent had provided thus far was nothing short of amazing, and he was extremely excited over whatever else she might have come up with during the night. After all these years, he knew her far too well to think that she'd actually done something as radical as getting some sleep.
And then he began to have the oddest feeling that he was being watched.
He'd read about such moments, in works of fiction: the sudden suspicion that strange eyes are upon you, observing your every move, studying you for some sort of nefarious purpose. He'd chuckled over the absurdity of such notions. How would you ever sense someone was observing you unless you were a telepath, which he most assuredly was not. There was nothing intrinsically physical about a gaze. "Sensing" such a thing ... it was ridiculous.
He thought that-right up until the very moment when he slowly looked up, in response to some sort of stimulus that he couldn't even begin to place.
Two or three people were watching him.
He frowned and turned to see if there could possibly be something behind him that had caught their attention. He didn 't spot anything, but couldn't quite wrap himself around the notion that he was the sudden focal point for a group of total strangers. In a mild act of self-denial, he shrugged it off as some sort of bizarre misunderstanding