The man from the regulatory cell left. Jackson and I were alone in my apartment.
“So what are we going to do?” I paced back and forth.
“We could put up that ad?” Jackson suggested.
“We are not putting up an ad for a new member.” I sighed. “Do you have a friend that would be a good Armour?”
“What? Oh sure.” Jackson always caught me off guard. He was our Abnormis. He was supposed to be strange. But it still never sat quite right with me.
When we walked out of the gelato place someone walked right into me. She bounced off of me, and stumbled back—falling to the ground.
“Sorry.” We both said. Canadian instincts.
I reached out to help her up.
I took a good look at her. She had striking blond hair and blue eyes. She was obviously rich. And dissatisfied. Her clothing was fancy yet there was no trace of happiness to be found anywhere.
She grabbed my hand and I pulled her up.
“If you’re looking for a cause, call me.” I handed her a business card.
“Thank you,” She said as she walked away.
Once she was out of earshot Jackson said, “What card did you give her?”
“My freelance software development card.”
“She’ll never call that.”
“If she’s desperate enough for a cause to call a programmer, she’ll be on board for being our Armour.”
Jackson tilted his head. “Yes, that should work.”