Ansel turned around.
Up close and in the quieter light of his private office he was worse than he had been across the conference table that morning.
Six years had settled into him in a way that was genuinely unreasonable.
The silver beginning to thread through his hair at the temples.
The particular stillness of a man who had grown more comfortable in his own authority with every passing year.
He looked at Lance for a long moment.
"Dixon.." he said.
"That's my name," Lance said.
Something moved at the corner of Ansel's mouth. Not quite a smile. "You've changed."
"People do.." Lance said. "Six years is a long time."
"It is." Ansel agreed. He moved away from the window and around to his side of the desk without sitting down. He stood with one hand resting on the surface and looked at Lance with the measured assessment of someone who was recalibrating something in real time. "I didn't know it was you when HR processed the recommendation."
