What kind of talk? The kind that happens in the breakroom about you and Emily Carter. Devou kept his voice even. Johnson in logistics mentioned he saw you two leave the building together last Thursday. We share a train.
He mentioned it was not in the direction of the train. Marcus was quiet. I'm not here to tell you what to do. Dvu said, "I'm here because you should know it's being talked about before it becomes something. The company has a policy on.
I know the policy. Do you need to look at it? We're not in a position that violates the policy." He paused. We're not in the same reporting chain. There's no supervisory relationship.
I checked. Devo looked at him for a long moment. You checked. I checked when? November.
Devuse absorbed this. November. He repeated. You checked the HR policy in November. I'm a thorough man.
Marcus, you were falling for this woman in November and you were already. Dear stopped, shook his head slowly. Then I have never in my life seen a man do more background research on a feeling before he allowed himself to have it. I have a daughter, Marcus said. I don't get to just I have to think about everything.
I know. Devou put a hand briefly on Marcus's shoulder. But you also have a life, not just responsibilities. A life. Marcus held his gaze.
I know that now. Good. Devou dropped his hand. Then stop worrying about the breakroom. The call came on a Wednesday at 6:30 a.m. Marcus was still in the apartment running 3 minutes behind his system, which almost never happened when his phone rang, and he saw Emily's name, and his stomach dropped before he answered because 6 3:00 a.m. was not a train schedule text, was not a photograph she'd taken the day before, was not any of the ordinary morning things they'd built between them.
Emily, he said, "It the way you say someone's name when you already know." Her voice was very quiet. He's gone. A pause early this morning. It was They said it was peaceful. He went in his sleep.