In a world like this, anyone with good looks was usually well aware of their own charm.
Jean Shields was no exception.
Since the apocalypse began, he'd grown used to the looks of awe, and even the lustful or calculating gazes from men and women alike. Someone like Paige Summers—who only glanced for a moment before looking away, her eyes clean and unburdened—was a rarity.
He couldn't help but take a liking to her.
"I've heard a great deal about you, Master Summers. I hope you don't mind me asking you here so abruptly."
Hearing him, Paige knew that whether he was truly a fan of weapons or not, he at least paid close attention to the field. He was even addressing her by the title used at Summers Armaments.
Truthfully, she didn't mind. "You're too kind, Commander Shields."
The vehicle was similar to Kent Kane's, a modified car with a spacious rear. There were only two three-seater sofas, one on each side, and a soundproof partition separated the back from the driver.
