Author's Note: This is something different but with the new release of Deus Ex soon, I'm getting pretty hyped up! Enjoy.

While You Were Sleeping

Frank Pritchard was a man of vast intellect and even he didn't quite know what he was doing. Barely a week since the break in and he found himself unable to focus on his work, getting angry outbursts that would have hours upon hours of work and expensive equipment tossed on the ground, and being completely unable to sleep. In a full week, he had about four hours of sleep taken at an inopportune moment during work hours, of course. Even now it was nearing two in the morning and he found himself in a place he never thought he would be standing in.

The office he stood in was dark but the light shining in from the window overlooking the first floor, which was covered in bright lights, spilled through the glass giving the room a glow that Frank, strangely enough, missed. But it felt empty. The entire building had since the incident but Pritchard couldn't help but notice how he was drawn to this office specifically. They had yet to move Megan's office and, even though Pritchard thought he was attached to her, he instead stood in Adam Jensen's office.

His forehead was placed against the cool glass overlooking the reception area allowing the chilled feeling to flow through him. He was abnormally warm but he wouldn't admit the logical part of him was right. He was not worried about the head of security's safety. This didn't mean he wanted the gruff man currently lying in a hospital bed to die, of course, however he had too much work to focus on the current condition of someone whom he despised.

And yet there he stood, his hand pressed unceremoniously to the glass with his eyes closed reveling in the cool treatment his face was receiving. The door behind him was closed though it didn't matter much. Nobody had the luxury to walk into the office and question why the chief of cyber security was currently standing in the chief of security's office whilst the man is on leave.

Sometimes, he wrote in his times of stress but he simply couldn't get the words out, now. He never wrote for a particular reason and it didn't always help as much as just got his mind off of whatever was bothering him but he didn't have the time or energy. Not now. Not when the man he despised was laying on an operating table after being torn to pieces against his will.

Why did this bother him? Besides the fact that what David Serif was doing was wrong, besides the fact that Megan Reed was dead, besides the fact that Pritchard hadn't gotten a single thing done since he heard about what happened to Jensen; besides all of that, this still weighed on his mind more than anything.

And perhaps that's why he grabbed his coat roughly from the couch, tossed open the door, and closed it behind him.

The walk to the LIMB hospital, where the patients went for major operations, wasn't as far as it felt. His feet were heavy and his mind was on the ground beneath his feet and how it glistened as the night activity continued around him. The police were scattered, too busy with attempting to protect Sarif industries from any possible oncoming attacks that they seemed lost, overworked, and, worst of all, useless.

Pritchard didn't bother stopping at the front desk. Everyone from Serif Industries had free access to Jensen thanks to David and if anyone stopped him he would explain who he was but he just wasn't in the mood at that second. He had too much on his mind so he simply strolled through the automatic doors and to the room Sarif had emailed about.

Pritchard halted a moment, a hand pressed softly to the door. He hadn't exactly thought this through—what if he was awake? How would he explain being there? He was already avoiding the reasoning for himself, he certainly wouldn't be able to handle explaining a thing to Jensen but he also didn't want to be forced to resort to his childish berating to keep in character. He simply wanted to be there.

Again, he was without reason for simply wanting to see Jensen in the fragile state he was in but he hoped it wasn't to simply gloat. He hoped he wasn't that type of person.

He took steady breaths, his eyes glistening at the distant view of a still body that was obviously Jensen. In the light above, he could see the light bouncing from the man's exposed chest that rose up and down. The chest itself was skin, one of the few details Pritchard could see from across the large room.

Pritchard had little choice but to push through if only to get out of the hallway—again, he really didn't want to come in contact with any of the hospital employees. He may be allowed there, however, he didn't want the visit on paper.

Yet again, he wasn't sure why but he had a sneaking suspicion it was to upkeep his hard personality that nobody had yet to break through.

Pritchard stood in the opening of the doorway for a long minute, hand holding the door open with his eyes on the body in the center of the room. He ignored the room around him though without even looking, he was well aware the room was good enough for David Sarif himself so it must have good enough for Adam Jensen. Pritchard scoffed to himself before twisting his face in disgust.

This, for once, wasn't Jensen's fault and he needed to keep his head wrapped around this concept.

He finally released the door and stepped out of the way as it slowly swung closed. He didn't exactly step farther into the room but he was in the room nonetheless. He worried his bottom lip and finally glanced around the room.

The ceiling lights were off though the glow from the spotlight directly above Jensen as well as the x-rays lining the walls was enough to light up the man in the center of the room. Tables were scattered around though some were pushed neatly in the corners of the room holding various tools Pritchard easily recognized as augment tools. That was when Pritchard's curiosity got the better of him and he stepped towards Jensen.

It was a small step but it was one of the most difficult steps he had taken since, well, opening the door, really. Pritchard was far, far out of his comfort zone and he had a part of him that wanted to run. Another step and Pritchard let out a breath he wasn't quite sure he was holding. Another step, sooner after the last, and he found himself beside Jensen. Pritchard began examining Jensen's left arm, the entirety of it a shining black metal before it vanished under bandages that covered the connected from metal to skin that ended at Jensen's shoulder.

Pritchard's eyes traveled to the chest where the same white bandages were wrapped around the entirety of the skin besides the lower abdomen which was bruised and covered in scars. Pritchard's mouth morphed into a frown and Jensen's reality hit him harder than it should have at the sight of the red stitched marks covering Jensen's abdomen. Even the man's shoulder, Pritchard noticed, was covered in less severe cuts and markings by the glass that had been embedded into his skin.

Pritchard's eyes swept slowly up towards Jensen's neck that looked strained and tight. Pritchard pressed his hip against the side of Jensen's bed to lean over the injured body and gaze in interest at Jensen's face. Jensen's strong jaw was tense and gritted behind tight lips. His eyes were closed though his temples were covered in square bandages that Pritchard was all too aware had everything to do with the augmentations that he was sure now presided in Jensen's eyes. The top left part of his forehead was also covered in a bandage that caused Pritchard to frown even farther.

Just as Pritchard's fingers began to venture to examine Jensen's visible augments physically, a void interrupted him.

"Excuse me, you aren't allowed in here!"

It was a female nurse that had pushed through the door and marched inside in a way that put Pritchard's sketchy entrance to shame.

"Excuse you? Do you know how I am?"

She paled and she sighed, the tablet in her hand getting pulled against her chest.

"I apologize, Mr. Sarif—"

"No, I'm not Sarif!" Pritchard hissed and he resisted the urge to insult her. "I'm part of Sarif Industries, however—"

The brunet nurse frowned and nodded.

"Very well, but please be careful. Mr. Jensen is in a delicate state and he needs his rest."

"Then perhaps you should avoid storming into a patient's room and shouting when they are attempting to sleep especially you are well aware that all Sarif employees have been invited to visit when they like," Pritchard hissed impatiently.

"I apologize, again, sir, however you must understand—Mr. Jensen has had very few visitors besides Mr. Sarif according to the other nurses. That's why I assumed you were him and now I must insist you sign the visitor ledger."

Pritchard sighed in discontent but nodded grudgingly and stepped away from Jensen's bed towards the nurse.

Despite Jensen being rather lost on his place in the world now that the entirety of the situation had been figured out, he still found himself walking into Sarif industries. He wasn't, however, there for his job. He had been cleared to take the remainder of his six months off and his office held nothing personal. Instead, however, he jogged up the stairs and through the double doors that led to the cafeteria and, eventually, the helipad where Malik was waiting.

"Hey, Jensen—"

"What do you need to tell me that you couldn't tell me over the infolink, Malik?"

"Why so tense, Jensen? I just wanted to talk," Malik stated with a frown, crossing her arms and leaning back against the plane she was planning on taking out for a spin after their chat.

Jensen's jaw clenched and Malik looked around carefully as she slowly understood.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think coming back here would be—" she began.

"Can we just get this over with?"

"Yeah, yeah of course. I think you should take a look at your hospital visit ledger." Jensen cocked his head to the side and without being asked to, Malik began to explain. "Something Pritchard said had me look around and I think you'll find something interesting. Trust me."

"If I have time, I might—Can I go?"

Malik frowned and nodded. "Yeah, yeah you can go."

"I'll talk to you later, Malik," Jensen muttered.

Though, he still wasn't sure why Malik had him come all the way here for that.

It wasn't for another month that Jensen gave Malik's suggestion another thought. He had been sitting in his living room day after day with little to do. He often got caught in his own thoughts of how useless he was now that his job of exacting revenge for Megan's "death" had been fulfilled, he was just a monster. Malik visited him on his worse days when he couldn't bother telling her not to come and often brought him food and supplies as he hadn't left his apartment since seeing Malik at Sarif Industries.

"Frank asked about you," Malik said, sitting down beside Jensen on the couch.

The apartment wasn't as messy as Malik expected it to be after not seeing Jensen for a few weeks and it made her somewhat hopeful Jensen was feeling better.

"Why?" Jensen asked gruffly causing Malik to sigh.

"Because, despite what you think, he does care. Haven't you looked at the hospital ledger?"

Jensen, really, had forgotten about it. He had priorities that weren't running around town looking for a piece of paper that told him who visited him while he was unconscious.

"No, I've been busy."

"Busy sulking," Malik sighed. "If you feel up to it, you should."

"Are you trying to tell me Pritchard came to the hospital for me?" Jensen asked, clear annoyance in his voice.

"More than a few times."

"So did Sarif," Jensen stated crossing his arms. Jensen didn't know what Malik was getting at but it was beginning to bother him.

"Sarif was there watching over the doctors, and Pritchard came to see you a lot more than Sarif."

"What?"

"I believe the nurse counted sixty-eight times but I could be wrong," Malik shrugged.

Jensen's eyes narrowed behind his shades in disbelief. "Francis visited me sixty-eight times?"

Malik laughed and shook her head. "No. Pritchard visited you sixty-eight more times than Serif."

Jensen lowered his gaze and his jaw clenched. His hands shifted uncomfortably in his lap before he finally just stood up. Malik followed him with her eyes as he crossed his arms and made his way to the window of his apartment.

"How long have you been living here?" Malik asked, glancing to all of the boxes around her.

"Malik, I need some time alone."

"Alright," she stated, standing. "Look, whatever happens just know I'm here for you, alright? And hey, if you ever want to finish unpacking, I'm your gal."

Jensen nodded and Malik let herself out with a smile that was sure to mean something bad. And after walking aimlessly around his apartment and even attempting to lie down for a while, Adam chose to just go to Pritchard.

"Hey Pritchard?" Jensen called through his infolink.

"I'm right here, Jensen, like always," the sardonic tone in Pritchard's voice far too noticeable.

"Are you in the office?"

"Of course I'm in my office. It's been hell around here ever since you left."

"You saying you miss me?" Jensen shot back and he heard a scoff. "I need to talk to you. I was considering dropping by."

"Don't bother; I've been at this for two days straight, Jensen. It's best for me to go there. Your place is on the way anyway. And just so I'm sure this is worth losing sleep over, what is this about?"

"I'll see you when you get here, Pritchard," Jensen answered in a mutter and Pritchard sighed.

"Very well, Pritchard out," the man replied with a deep sigh.

Jensen was without much to do. He considered Malik's words for quite some time, looking at the boxes pushed against the walls of his (mostly) empty apartment. Eventually, he gave up the thought of cleaning and ended up sitting on his couch with some sort of movie from thirty or so years ago. His mind certainly was nowhere near the movie, though. His thoughts were swimming in so many different topics and things that were happening or about to happen or might happen that he felt dizzy.

Had he not called Pritchard over, he might drown his thoughts with alcohol, as per usual, but he didn't want to hear it from Pritchard if the man just happened to find him drunk. Instead, he simply leaned his chin against his fist as he rested is elbow on the arm rest and focused his eyes, uncovered by his shades, on the television. Unfortunately, by the time he was finally able to focus his mind on what was playing before him, a knock caught his ear and Pritchard announced his entrance.

"What are you watching, Jensen?" he muttered, eyeing the horrific scene displayed on the television.

"I have no idea," Jensen responded, shutting it off with a press of a button. "Help yourself to something to drink."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to make this as quick as possible," He stated yet still made his way into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of whatever was available. "I still also have to make it home and I don't quite know if it's safe to drive in my state and yet, somehow, it's safe for me to create a security network large enough to—" Pritchard sighed and shook his head. "Nevermind. It's not like you would understand anyway."

"You're making a security network large enough to cover the current security network you have created with different settings. I'm assuming it's easier than repairing the one you currently have," Jensen stated, his eyes unblinking at the black screen across from him. He felt Pritchard's eyes linger on him before the man in the kitchen sighed.

"I sometimes forget you aren't a complete moron unlike the bastards on the security team. I had to hand code everything myself because they didn't understand why fixing the current one wouldn't solve our issues," Pritchard continued as he grabbed his glass and rounded into the living room before setting himself in the chair Malik accompanied several hours beforehand. "Though, I doubt that's what you called me here to talk about. What was so important you couldn't talk about it over the infolink?"

Jensen sat up and leaned forward, using his elbows on his thighs for leverage as he made eye contact with Pritchard. This was important and he was tired of Pritchard thinking everything was a challenge, especially during these times.

"I owe you an explanation about Miss Walthers. You've been working around the clock to keep her safe, I think you should know why. Before I tell you, I just need you to be aware that I am grateful for what you've done the past few months. You've been able to watch out for her, keep security on her, and have the whole of Sarif Industries in the dark about it."

"It isn't as difficult as it sounds, really. Sarif Industries has its hands filled at the moment and not many people are very worried about a missing team of security employees."

"You've still managed it for months, Pritchard, and you didn't sign up for this. I was supposed to have had a backup plan by now but I haven't even gone out since I found out who she was."

"Right, and who is she?"

Jensen's eyes lowered and his fingers intertwined absentmindedly. Pritchard sat back and rested the hand holding his drink on his thigh as he realized just might what be coming. And so Jensen explained everything step by step in the way he had found out. He explained Sarif's part, then his own, followed by his parents', and finally Michelle. By the time Jensen had finished the story, Pritchard's drink was finished and on the coffee table and he was currently leaning forward to listen to Jensen's words, quietly without interruption.

"I can see why you wouldn't want to return."

"I would like to," Jensen responded. "I still have some things to figure out."

"I wouldn't worry too much about her. I keep a close eye on the group watching her apartment and she seems to like them. They play canasta quite often."

Jensen chuckled dryly but sincerely at the statement as a fragment of a smile hit his lips, "Thanks."

"It's fine, really," Pritchard sat back and crossed his legs at the knee. "Anything else?"

Jensen also sat back but instead he crossed his arms and his eyes went forward, "Possibly."

"Well spit it out then, I'm exhausted."

"It isn't important, you can leave," Jensen shrugged.

"Jensen, it will be quicker if you just tell me," the man responded in a deep sigh.

"Did you visit me while I was in the hospital?"

Pritchard's frown faded from his lips and he suddenly straightened. His eyes narrowed and his arms crossed over his chest as he responded, "Why do you want to know?"

Jensen chuckled dryly again and gave a shrug, "Malik told me to take a look at the visitor's log from the clinic when I was recovering."

"Why would she tell you to do that?"

Jensen had several theories surrounding why and Pritchard's horror stricken face wasn't helping any of the ones he liked. Jensen sighed and shifted in his seat. He didn't know what to say because, quite simply, he didn't know why she told him.

"Ask her yourself but she obviously wanted me to confront you about it so I did."

Pritchard simply nodded stiffly.

"So why did you visit me? I was under the impression you were busy during those few weeks after the accident."

"I was. Everyone was busy working over time trying to make up for what happened and all of the lost information. I was especially because everyone was looking to me for answers that I didn't have and I had to get away sometimes," Pritchard finished quietly. "You know, your office is pretty nice for thinking."

"You went into my office while I was gone?"

"At first... For a time. Nobody thought to look in there for me so I would sit and think or work from my laptop."

"You used my office to hide in?" Pritchard bobbed his head in a quick nod and Jensen shrugged, "Well alright. Ignoring the clear invasion of my privacy—"

"Says the one who hacked into my computer when I was in a meeting," Pritchard growled.

"I said I was worried," Jensen said pointedly. "Ignoring the invasion of privacy, I don't really care. I'd rather you than one of the morons who work for you."

"Always the positive one."

"Malik won't be happy," Jensen muttered absentmindedly.

"Why is that?"

"You were just escaping work. She seemed to believe you cared about me."

"First of all, I didn't say that I don't. Second, why does it matter to her?" Pritchard asked sharply. "Look, when I get stressed out, I tend to end up in your office where I make a snide comment regarding your lack of intelligence, you prove me right by calling me Francis, I tell you to do something and I leave. That, somehow, calms me. After a week of no more than three nights of sleep, I needed a break. I went to see you in the clinic and you were… in bad shape. I found myself going on long walks in between assignments and I just ended up at the hospital. That's when I realized that I may have cared."

Jensen kept a straight face. His hardened features didn't flinch as his eyes glanced over Pritchard's tense body. His foot was shaking against the floor, his eyes were dilated, and his pulse surely had quickened. Adam could easily sense these things despite the fact that sometimes, if not usually, he wished he could forget about the augments and be able to just feel something human again.

He realized, after long sleepless nights, that he clung to Megan because she was the last person he felt anything for before his augments. His feelings for her were real—not made in some lab. He could still feel her skin beneath his fingertips and the way his breath hitched when the two were pressed together in an embrace.

It didn't matter that there were no longer feelings between the two.

All that mattered, to Jensen, was getting that feeling back.

Unfortunately, he never could.

Nothing could banish the cold metal fingers beneath his glove.

Jensen allowed the silence to remain between the two as he slipped his hand free of the black glove. He flexed his fingers and turned it around a few times before looking up at Pritchard.

"I never asked for this but I accepted what happened," he sighed.

"It wasn't fair," Pritchard agreed.

"Nothing is, Francis."

Pritchard's lips twitched slightly.

"So," Jensen continued, returning the glove to his hand, "you're saying whenever you grew overworked you would come down to the clinic and visit me to let off some steam?"

"It began like that, I suppose. I don't exactly have any more of an explanation," Pritchard's quiet voice suddenly raised and became combative. "You're lucky I answered your question at all. I should have just gone home."

"Nobody's stopping you," Jensen reminded him.

"Well, I can't very well take it back now can I, Jensen?" Pritchard snapped back.

The two fell silent. Adam sat back and let his legs spread out wide. Pritchard silently judged him and kept still with his eyes on the floor.

"You don't need to. The more I think about it, the more I'm remembering some things from when I was unconscious," Jensen confessed casually.

"Don't bother lying to me, Jensen. I don't need it. I was simply overworked—"

"Francis, I'm not lying. I know you and Megan visited but I thought it was a hallucination from the medication because I believed Megan to be dead, at the time and Sarif told me visions were common. Now that you brought it up, I remember." Jensen sat up and thought as Pritchard grew silent, "It wasn't a hallucination, was it?"

Frank Pritchard, as lonely as he was, found himself returning to that clinic almost nightly. He began to bring his work, sometimes he would conveniently leave his infolink offline and simply bring the endless paperwork he had to fill out. He returned often enough that the nurses began to expect him and regularly questioned the reasoning why he missed a night or was late the few times it happened.

He despised being questioned about it but he often made up an excuse and signed the form before going through the doors.

He couldn't very well tell them that he had been sitting in his office mentally attempting to distract himself from the man lying half dead on the table inside the clinic. He couldn't explain how his feelings had suddenly become overwhelming now that he lost the ability to hide any abnormal feeling through witty banter and sarcastic comments.

Now, Frank Pritchard was stuck with his work, his feelings, and a man he often silently begged to wake up.

"The nurses told me they want to try waking you up tomorrow. If that happens, I won't be back, Jensen."

Frank often found himself quietly speaking to Jensen. Sometimes, he thought the man could hear him so he watched what he said. Other times, he wasn't sure.

But after Pritchard's statement, Jensen's fingers curled into a fist and then released.

This was often the sign that Pritchard took to begin watching what he said but instead, he simply stayed seated and ignored the paperwork in his lap. He watched Jensen's face with curiosity and worry. Some of the bandaging had been removed and was enough for Pritchard to see where the augments ended and Adam Jensen began.

It would be heartbreaking to someone who was more in tune with their heart but Pritchard was anything but. He enjoyed logic and equations which was why he was so good with coding. But this was different. Jensen was different.

"You can hear me, sometimes, I know. But I don't think you will actually remember any of this. I certainly hope not. You have been through far too much," Pritchard exhaled slowly.

His fingers softly settled into Jensen's palm—something Pritchard often let happen to better asses how aware Jensen was.

That's what he told himself anyway.

If Jensen had been awake, he could have easily been able to read Pritchard.

"Are you aware of how frequent I have been here?" Pritchard asked.

One squeeze.

One squeeze always meant yes. Two meant no. Three meant an unsure answer.

"Have I bothered you?"

Two very deliberate squeezes.

"Good," a sigh then he repeated, "Good."

There was silence while Pritchard thought to himself.

He tried very hard to ignore the pleasant feeling in his stomach from their touching hands—as he often did. This time felt different, though.

"Has anyone else visited you?" Pritchard asked.

Three squeezes.

"D-Do you think you will remember this?"

One, long, squeeze.

Pritchard figured if the man had remembered their system of squeezes as communication the past few visits then he was sure Jensen would remember.

An alarm caught Pritchard off guard and he sighed as he silenced it with his free hand.

It was eight—time to return to work.

Pritchard stood and lingered beside Jensen's bedside, hand in hand. His thumb had a mind of its own as it began to rub circled into Jensen's hand. Frank Pritchard watched the opposite male's chest raise and fall slowly a few times before he finally spoke again.

"I think you'll be waking tomorrow. If you remember this, request to see me. I don't want to be an unwelcomed site for you if you don't remember," Pritchard explained carefully.

Jensen's hand twitched and Pritchard's lips rose into a soft smile.

"I'm just being cautious, Jensen. One last thing before I go—" Pritchard lingered in silence as the statement caught on his tongue.

This was his chance, though.

He hadn't been this worried about someone since Megan and he, honestly, never thought he ever would again. Yet here he was with Adam Jensen and he wanted nothing more than to simply never leave.

"I want to kiss you. Do you mind if I do that?"

Pritchard waited for the accepted. There was a delay and Frank was sure his heart stopped for several seconds.

Then a squeeze came.

Frank waited and, after a pause, a second squeeze came.

He waited again, just to be sure, but a third never came.

Adam Jensen, in fact, did not mind if Frank Pritchard kissed him.

The two men stared at each other with two very different expressions.

Pritchard was absolutely terrified. His eyebrows were furrowed and his eyes longing to look away so he could run. His pulse had increased tenfold and Jensen could almost hear Pritchard's heart beat from across the room.

Jensen, on the other hand, was calm. The memory that suddenly returned to him was one that he assumed had been a dream and now here the two were and it was anything but a dream. Adam wanted his eyes to be covered by his augmented sunglasses to hide the actual interest.

There was a considerable time gap between then and now, after all.

Things always change.

"There's no point in asking why you never said anything about your feelings so I'm not going to," Jensen said gruffly.

"I should leave," Pritchard said suddenly and stood to leave.

Jensen was considerably faster and was standing just as soon.

"I didn't ask for you because I had forgotten, Pritchard," Jensen explained simply.

"It's fine, really. I'm over it and I would really prefer to just leave," Pritchard spoke too quickly and downturned his eyes in embarrassment.

"Would you really say that if I expressed that I wanted to kiss you?" Jensen asked carefully.

Pritchard grew silent and his eyes were soon back on Jensen. It was easy for Adam to see that Frank did not believe him. In fact, he looked insulted and, quite obviously, hurt.

"Before you say anything—" Jensen cut in just as Pritchard opened his mouth to make an angry comment, "—I'm serious. Pritchard, not a single person bothered to visit me even half as much as you. I spent more time listening to you speak than I care to admit but I will admit that I enjoyed it—wanted it. I think I was lonely at first but I counted on you to come back and you always did," Jensen paused, "Until you didn't."

Pritchard opened his mouth again but nothing came out. He was completely speechless. His eyes no longer held malice and, instead, were confused and borderline hopeful. Jensen saw this and continued.

"I get why you didn't come back, Francis. But let me return the favor you left me with."

Frank Pritchard didn't move an inch beyond his lips parting in shock. Adam stepped up to the brunet and rested a hand, carefully, on his waist. The opposite hand brushed Pritchard's hand and the two joined fingers naturally. Warm gloved fingers tightened around a soft sweaty palm and Pritchard finally let out a breath.

Pritchard barely had time to smile before Jensen's lips were on his and suddenly whiskers were rubbing uncomfortably against his smoothly shaved upper lip. Pritchard's hand lifted to cup Jensen's scruffy cheek before gliding down to the back of his neck. Lips parted slightly before the kiss was broken off.

There was silence again but not awkward, this time.

It was a form of content silence like the two of them had finally found the thing they had been waiting for.

"We have a lot to talk about," Pritchard finally said, though, there was a confident smile on his face that Jensen had never seen before.

"In time, Francis."