"Yes. Yes, it went even better than expected." Mical Jorde's heart would always thud frantically in his chest when he was in the middle of a lie.

Well, not so much a lie as it was an untruth. It was the subtle differences that made the morally gray appear closer to white in his mind. He'd tell untruths to those surrounding him; he'd lie to himself about it later. All in a day's work, he supposed.

Regardless, he was relieved. For as perceptive as Atton Rand sometimes seemed, the man appeared determined to stay ignorant of the events surrounding his miraculous pregnancy. Rand went so far as to not only accept what misinformation they fed him, but to walk away from it all, willfully blind.

Which was good. A success. More than a success, even. As manufactured a miracle as the pregnancy was.

"It doesn't look like he wants anything to do with the child," Mical murmured into his comm. "He named it and walked away. More importantly, he believes there was only one."

He thumbed his comlink off and put it in his pocket. This case had just gotten more and more bizarre. Mical hazarded that he didn't need to necessarily understand the exact whys for the assignment, only that he needed to do his job. Unfortunately, at that moment his job consisted of finding a suitable home for 18 hour old orphan boy. He sighed and got to work.