As Lucy Preston was rushed into some sort of waiting room at Mason Industries, she tried to get some form of a question out, but the Homeland Security agents were having none of it, so she was left with a door slammed in her face in a strange room with, when she turned to actually survey the room, a strange man who appeared to be sleeping. She quietly took a seat in the nearest chair, fidgeting with her hands.
"Are you asleep?" she whispered to the man.
"No ma'am," he responded tartly. But she lost her breath a little bit at the sound of his voice. She'd heard it before… from one of the few people who ever called her ma'am. In the dim room she could kind of tell what he looked like, but not enough to jump to any conclusions.
"Do you know why we're here?" she pressed, unable to keep her curiosity to herself.
"No idea, ma'am." There it was again. Ma'am.
"You know we're pretty much the same age you can stop calling me ma'am," she snapped. He slowly opened his eyes and looked her way. She couldn't help but gasp. She'd know those eyes anywhere, and by the look on his face he was in as much disbelief as he was.
"Lucy?" he whispered.
Wyatt.